


Extra Credit

by gaylax_ies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blow Jobs, Eventual Relationships, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hand Jobs, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith is a hoe, Lots of Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moving Out, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16377419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylax_ies/pseuds/gaylax_ies
Summary: Team Voltron's fucked-up guide to learning everything that university doesn't teach.A.K.A. the university/friends-with-benefits/slow burn fic featuring excessive drinking and swearing that nobody asked for but me.(will eventually have triggering content, also a lot of sex lmao)





	1. 101 - Intro to University Life

**Author's Note:**

> new chaptered fic even though i have so many that are incomplete!!!! whoops!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cardboard boxes, decorating, and sleeping with childhood friends

It’s just past seven in the morning when…

_“I'm bringin' sexy back, them other boys don't know how to act…”_

Lance’s ringtone bursts out in Keith’s room, shocking Keith out of his slumber. He groans, rolling over and slapping his nightstand until he grabs the phone.

“What?”

“Well, good morning to you, too, star shine,” Lance chuckles, “I’m in your driveway and I have a U-Haul. Let’s get yeeting.”

“Ugh,” Keith replies, sighing as he sits up in bed. He scratches his head, roughly dragging his fingers through his hair. Lance laughs.

“I’m parking. I’ll eat breakfast with your mom while you get dressed. Then we gotta load your stuff up,” he instructs, and Keith nods even though he knows Lance can’t see him.

“Alrighty. I’ll be a few minutes.”

“No! Be longer! Look presentable or I swear to God I will wash your hair with my own two hands!” Lance insists and Keith rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Oh, gonna shower with me, baby?” he taunts, and Lance grunts.

“If you’re ugly, I’m leaving you behind. You can fucking Uber to uni,” he growls, hanging up. Keith laughs softly, swinging his legs out of bed. He pads softly to the bathroom; downstairs, he can hear Lance chattering away to his mom. He smiles softly as he shuts the bathroom door behind him.

The smile drops from his face the second he looks at himself in the mirror.

“Lance!” he yells, dragging out the syllables, “come brush my hair!”

He can hear Lance groan loudly from downstairs, quickly followed by heavy footsteps.

“You really can’t do anything by yourself, can you?” Lance teases, pushing into the bathroom. He grabs Keith’s hairbrush as Keith wets his toothbrush, and together they begin Keith’s waking up process. Once Keith is finished brushing his teeth, he smiles and closes his eyes, letting Lance brush through his hair.

“You look so happy,” Lance giggles, looking past Keith’s shoulder to watch his face in the mirror. Keith’s smile widens.

“You’re a lot gentler than I am,” he says. Lance rolls his eyes.

“I’m done,” he says, trailing his fingers carefully through Keith’s bangs as he sets the brush back on the counter, “make sure you condition. And moisturize.”

Keith just nods, turning his back to Lance and tugging his t-shirt off. Lance steps out of the bathroom, tugging the door shut behind him, as Keith takes off his sweats. He turns the water on and steps out of his boxers, stepping under the stream of warm water. As he mindlessly goes through the skin and hair care routine that Lance carefully curated for him, he starts to think about the day ahead of him.

He’s going to university. And he’s absolutely terrified, but he can’t wait. And he’s going with his best friend of 12 years. He’s terrified, and he’s ecstatic.

When he emerges from the shower, he finds Lance in his room, sitting on the floor surrounded by Keith’s belonging.

“Squeaks, have you even packed?” he demands, holding up handfuls of Keith’s stuff. Keith grins sheepishly.

“Yeah…”

“Keith!”

“I packed the important stuff! I just thought I’d have more time this morning!”

“Sit down! We need to pack!” Lance yells, eyes wide and incredulous.

“Lance, I am _naked_!”

“Get dressed then!” Lance demands, so Keith turns around, drops his towel and yanks on a pair of boxers. Then he plonks right down on the carpet next to Lance, grabbing fistfuls of clothes from his dresser. He hands them to Lance, who looks through them and passes the clothes he approves of to Keith, who in turn rolls them up and shoves them into his suitcase. Once Lance has finished sorting through his clothes, he heads off to the bathroom, leaving Keith to pack as he presumably tears through his bathroom. Five minutes later, he’s barging back into Keith’s bedroom with a bulging toiletry bag while Keith hops around, yanking his jeans on over his hips.

“Good choice! You look cute in those!” Lance yells, the compliment lost in the commanding tone in his voice. He grabs Keith’s suitcase, and Keith can hear his thunderous footsteps as he rockets downstairs to drop it with the rest of Keith’s things.

Keith grabs a t-shirt. It’s an old one of Lance’s, a white and red ringer tee with the Marvel logo on the front, and it’s soft and faded with age. He smiles at it, remembering how Lance had left it at his house after a sleepover when they were fifteen. He wore it once, and Lance let him keep it, saying that it suited him. It’s smaller now, but it still fits, so he pulls it on.

“That’s the shirt you stole from me,” Lance says softly from the doorway. He’s calm now that he knows Keith is packed, and he smiles at him, eyes shining.

“You gave it to me, jackass,” Keith replies, matching Lance’s sentimental smile. Lance steps into the room, eyes scanning around it, and Keith does the same.

In this bedroom are 14 years of memories: there’s a photo of Keith and his birth mother in her fatigues from the day before she left for Afghanistan, a photo of him and Shiro on the day the Shiroganes adopted him, pictures of him, Hunk, and Lance winning their elementary school robotics competition. Keith gasps.

“Lance, go get a box,” he says, walking towards the wall. He started pulling photos down, gathering them up in a stack in his hands as Lance grabs a shoe box from his closet. Keith drops the photos into the box, and Lance heads to his desk to gather up the knick-knacks gathered there: a Funko Pop of Remus Lupin, a photo strip of him and Lance from when they went to see Coco- both of their eyes are red and swollen from crying- and a little stuffed dinosaur that was a present from Shiro. He sets those gently into the shoe box and then wraps his arms around Keith from behind, watching over his shoulder as he flips through the photos in his hands.

“We can find a way to put those up nicely when we get there,” he says softly. Keith nods, placing the photos in the box and flipping the lid. Lance tapes it shut and picks it up, leading the way out of his bedroom. Keith grabs his black denim jacket from behind the door, taking a final glance into his bedroom before shutting the door and following Lance down the stairs.

“Good morning, baby,” his mom says, opening her arms to him as he walks into the kitchen. He folds himself into her, stooping to cuddle his head into the crook of her neck. She squeezes him tightly before pulling back, cupping his chin in both of her hands.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, warm grey eyes soft as she studies his face. He bites his lips, nodding minutely.

“A little. I’m excited, too, though,” he admits. She smiles, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead, baby,” she insists, ushering him over to the kitchen island. He sits, letting his place a massive plate of food in front of him. There’s a second one there for Lance, who plops down next to Keith after a moment.

“So, Lance, are you excited?” Keith’s mom asks, reaching across the island to ruffle Lance’s hair. Lance beams at her, swallowing the bite of food he’d shovelled into his mouth before even sitting down.

“Yeah, I’m really excited! I’m a little nervous, too, but I think it’ll be fun. I’m excited to meet new people,” he replies brightly. Keith’s mom smiles softly.

“You’re going to be great,” she says, “you both will.”

“Aww, thanks, ma,” Keith mumbles around a mouthful of food. Lance glares at him, slapping his shoulder, and Keith smiles broadly, showing off his half-chewed eggs. Lance scoffs.

“Oh, Keith, did you call Krolia?” his mom asks, slapping a thick layer of butter on a piece of toast. Keith nods, swallowing.

“Yeah. She’s happy for me. She said she’d tried to visit next time she comes back, so hopefully I’ll get to see her soon,” he answers, smiling down at the countertop. His mom reaches across the countertop to ruffle his hair, just like she did for Lance.

“That’s amazing! Tell her she should drop by for tea next time she’s around, okay?” she requests, and Keith nods.

“It’s like you love my mother more than me,” he quips, rolling his eyes, “you never invite me over for tea.”

“I invited you into my home for the past fifteen years,” his mom replies, deadpan. They stare at each other flatly for just a moment before cracking up.

“You’ve got me, Keith. I love that woman. After all, she gave me my son.”

“Aww, ma,” Keith coos. From the corner of his eye, he can see Lance rest his chin on his hand, smiling warmly at Keith and his mom. She reaches across the counter and strokes Keith’s cheek softly. He smiles at her momentarily before turning his attention back to his plate, shovelling food into his mouth. He absolutely obliterates his breakfast as Lance chatters happily with him mom.

“Thanks, ma,” he burps when he’s finished, nudging his plate across the island. Lance rolls his eyes, picking up Keith’s plate before his mom can. He walks around the island, ignoring Keith’s mom’s fretting as he rinses the plates and puts them in the dishwasher. Then he accepts her grateful kiss on the cheek with a laugh, looping an arm around her waist and hugging her sideways.

“Are you boys heading off soon?” she asks, leaning into Lance’s side.

“Yeah, probably. We should be there with plenty of time, but traffic is always unpredictable and I don’t wanna be late,” Lance replies, Keith nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” Keith’s mom says, pulling away from Lance, “I’ll let you two load everything up, just come see me before you leave, okay?”

“Of course!” Lance responds, beaming at her once more before turning back to Keith. They nod at each other silently and Keith gets up, padding out of the kitchen with Lance in tow.

They work pretty silently as they pack Keith’s boxes into Lance’s U-Haul, and Keith can feel the nervous energy radiating from Lance, the anxiety he’s trying really hard to conceal. With their quick pace, they’ve packed up completely in fifteen minutes, and Lance locks up the U-Haul.

“Heading off now, boys?” Keith’s mom asks from the doorway, watching them fondly. Keith nods, and she reaches for him. He flops willingly into her arms, holding her tightly as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“You’re going to be great, Keith,” she whispers softly into his hair, “we’ll miss you. Don’t forget to call.”

Keith nods, holding back tears as he breathes in his mom’s familiar scent. He never thought he’d cry but, now, saying goodbye to his mom is the hardest thing he can imagine doing. She pulls back, cradling his face in her hands, and her eyes are damp too. She kisses his cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, ma.”

“Now get outta here before I start to cry, you big nerd,” she jokes, slapping his chest. Keith laughs thickly, holding her gaze for another moment before turning and walking towards Lance’s car. He can see his mom approach Lance, holding him tightly. She says a few words to him and kisses his cheek before sending him on his way, too.

“You ready to go, Squeaks?” he asks, opening the door to his van. Keith nods, climbing into the passenger’s side. Lance starts the engine, pulling out of the driveway. Keith watches through the rear-view mirror at his mom, who waves until she disappears from view, and he sighs deeply.

“You miss her already, yeah?” Lance asks, smiling. Keith nods. “I feel that. I miss Veronica already, too. And oh, I miss mama so much. She sent me away with some homemade tamales, though, so we can fucking feast if we get hungry.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Keith says, the emotion of his goodbye still lingering in his voice. He kicks off his shoes and pulls his feet up onto the seat, wrapping his arms around his legs and curling up. Then he plugs his phone into Lance’s aux cord, catching Lance’s eye in the rear-view.

“Panic! at the Disco?”

“Panic! at the Disco.”

 

After an hour of travelling, Lance and Keith arrive at the Garrison University. They pull up to the bag drop, where Shiro and Matt are already waiting, donning matching GU t-shirts. Shiro leans into the passenger side window of Lance’s car.

“Hey! We’ve been waiting for you two!” he says happily, ruffling Keith’s hair before looking past him and smiling at Lance. “Hey, how’ve you been?”

“Pretty good, thanks!”

“Lit, okay. Anyway, let’s get you signed in, then Matt and I can help you bring your shit up to your rooms.” He points them in the direction of a big tent with plastic folding tables, behind which Allura and some other third years are lounging, surrounded by lanyards and buttons and laptops.

“Keith, Lance!” Allura calls, hopping up and waving frantically, her long white hair bouncing behind her. Keith beams, bouncing in his seat as he waits for Lance to park. Once the car is safely stopped, Keith leaps out and excitedly rushes towards her, wrapping her up in his arms.

“Allura!” he yells happily, “it’s been forever! I’m still angry that you didn’t come back home this summer!”

“Sorry, Keithy. I wanted to, I did! But I had an amazing internship with Oriande Tech that I couldn’t pass up,” she explains, patting his cheek and pouting. Keith furrows his eyebrows in mock annoyance.

“Uhh, hate to interrupt this lovely reunion but you need to check in… Keith?” a guy sitting behind the table says. Keith’s eyes shift from Allura’s face to him. He’s a tall-looking, dark skinned guy with shockingly long, blindingly white hair, and he sits casually behind the table, ankle balanced on his opposite knee.

“Hi,” Keith says sheepishly, blushing over the major display of affection that he and Allura had shown.

“Hey,” the guy says, offering one dark, elegant hand for Keith to shake, “Lotor Prince, political science. Nice to meet you.”

“Keith Kogane, English lit, nice to meet you too,” Keith replies, “uhh, how do I-”

“Pass me your student card, and I’ll get you checked in,” Lotor says, looking past Keith’s shoulder as Allura rushes excitedly into the parking lot to fuss over Lance, hugging him and stroking his hair, talking animatedly.

“So, how do you and Allura know each other?” he asks as he plugs Keith’s student information into his computer. Keith blinks, forcing his attention back.

“She was Lance’s babysitter and best friends with my brother growing up, so she kinda just got used to me and Lance. She’s introduced me to people as her little brother before, so, yeah,” Keith chuckles, smiling fondly. Lotor smirks, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement.

“Okay, Keith, you’re in 198B, yeah?” Lotor asks.

“Yup.”

“Perfect. Here’s your key,” he says, passing over a shiny silver key on a purple lanyard. “You’re all good to start bringing your stuff up. See you around, Keith.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, wrapping his fingers around the key. Lotor’s lips slip into an easy smirk and he nods, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes.

By this point, Allura’s settled back behind her computer and is typing in Lance’s information, so Keith loiters around him and talks to Allura about her internship. She chatters on happily, talking about customer communications and software engineering and Keith has hardly any idea what it means, but her face lights up as she talks about it so he’s willing to listen. All too soon, she’s handing Lance’s key over and sending them on their way, promising to text them to make dinner plans soon.

“Checked in?” Matt asks, leaning against a large plastic bin stuffed to the brim with Lance’s stuff. He walks over, hugging Keith and Lance briefly before stepping back.

“Yup,” Keith replies, “198B.”

“And 198A,” Lance finishes, holding up his key from where it dangles around his neck. Matt nods in approval.

“Roommates?” Shiro asks from his seat in Lance’s U-Haul, legs hanging over the edge.

“Kinda,” Lance answers, “single rooms with a middle bathroom.”

“Ah, that’s the best setup!” Matt says, “that was how Shiro and I lived our first year, too. You get some privacy but you’re not totally alone, I loved it.”

“Well, I’m excited to live with this nerd all year,” Lance quips, wrapping his arm around Keith’s waist. Keith rolls his eyes but leans into him.

“When’s Hunk coming up?” Shiro asks, stretching out his shoulders.

“Hmm? Oh, tomorrow at, like, 11? He’s driving Pidge up, too,” Lance answers, brow furrowing.

“Nice,” Shiro replies, “I haven’t seen Hunk in such a long time. Is he still cooking?”

“Yeah! He’s amazing at it, too,” Keith says, smiling.

“Yo, hate to interrupt this bonding sesh, but the bins are a hot commodity today. Wanna get moving?” Matt asks, examining his fingernails in mock boredom. Keith leans over and flicks his forehead, causing Matt to scoff, but they all spring into action anyway.

 

Four hours later, Lance flops through the door to Keith’s dorm. Keith is tucking his sheets around his mattress, the comforter he had bought on clearance at Target lying on the ground.

“Keith,” Lance groans, dragging out the syllables. He wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders limply, draping over him. Keith sighs.

“You finished unpacking?” he asks, finishing with the fitted sheet and moving to grab his comforter, maneuvering with Lance on his back like a very inconvenient backpack. He throws the comforter over his bed messily and Lance grunts, detangling himself from Keith to straighten it out.

“Yup, wanna come see?” he asks, smoothing his hands over Keith’s newly fixed comforter. Keith shrugs noncommittally. “Wow, chill out, Keith, don’t be too excited.”

“Show me,” Keith replies, poking Lance’s shoulder. Lance grabs his hand happily, pulling him towards the door. Then he steps behind him, covering Keith’s eyes with his hands and awkwardly leading him towards the door to his room.

“What are you-”

“Building it up! Making it a surprise! Being exciting!” Lance cheers, blowing at the back of Keith’s ear. Together, they waddle towards Lance’s room door, and Lance removes one hand from Keith’s face to unlock it before clamping his hands back over Keith’s eyes.

“Okay, three… two… one!” he says excitedly, removing his hands from Keith’s face. Keith blinks, eyes taking in Lance’s room.

What was once a bland, beige dorm room is now something straight out of a catalogue. It’s lit all over with string lights, bathing the entire room in a soft glow. His bed is tucked into the corner of the room, the university-issued night table filling in most of the rest of the narrow space between it and the wall. Like in Keith’s room, there’s a jutting corner where the bathroom sits and Lance pushed his chest of drawers in next to it, with an exposed clothes rack next to that. Lance’s desk is pushed up against the foot of his bed, set up with organizers and a fancy lamp. The whole room is decked out in shades of blue, from the navy comforter to the space patterned tapestry to the black and white pictures hung up in thin blue frames. Keith is speechless.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, “Lance! It looks amazing!”

“Really?” Lance asks bashfully, beaming. Keith nods happily, looking around.

“Oh my god, Lance, get into my room and decorate right the hell now,” he says, still looking around in awe. Lance snorts.

“Sorry, Squeaks, but not even I can make something work with your Dollar Tree and Target decor,” he teases, looping his arm around Keith’s waist and setting his hand on his hip. He tugs him in against his chest and Keith goes willingly, staring straight across the room out Lance’s window. Lance stumbles sideways to his bed, pulling Keith down with him. He wraps himself around Keith, holding him tight and pulling him over his chest. His warmth and weight is calming and grounding, and he’s comforted as Keith tangles his fingers in the front of his shirt and rests his forehead in the crook of Lance’s neck.

“Are you scared?” Lance whispers quietly, staring up at the ceiling. He trails his fingers up and down Keith’s spine, almost unconsciously.

“Yeah,” Keith admits softly into Lance’s skin, “I’m really scared.”

“Me too,” Lance breathes.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me, no matter what happens this year, you’ll never leave me?” Keith breathes, his voice small and terrified. Lance’s breath hitches and, without knowing why or even being able to stop it, his eyes fill with tears.

“Squeaks, I won’t leave you. I swear I won’t leave you,” he whispers, hands splayed out across Keith’s back as he pulls him closer to Lance’s chest. Keith buries his face in the fabric of Keith’s shoulders and he’s crying now, too.

Lance is scared. Keith is scared too. But knowing that he won’t be alone calms the raging heartbeat in Lance’s chest. He doesn’t have to face this by himself, and he’ll be damned if he’s not there for Keith, too.

 

In all honesty, O Week is a little… hazy… for Keith. He remembers a lot of screaming, and eating McDonald’s with Lance at three a.m. He remembers the sting of alcohol and the taste and scent of weed as a random stranger blew it into his mouth. He remembers Lance’s hand wrapped in his, Lance’s laugh ringing out on a dark street as he towed Keith back to their dorm room.

And now, mostly lucid, he’s starting out his last night of O Week at the bar, Lance sitting on the stool next to him, chatting up a girl as Keith pounds back shots. He’s getting ready to dance.

He’s getting ready to get fucking laid.

After a few shots, Keith stumbles to the dance floor with cocktail in hand. Within moments, he’s been enveloped into the dark, crowded cave of debauchery. People press up around him from all sides, and there are hands all over his body, grasping at his skin. He stumbles in a little deeper, crashing into the chest of a random man, and a little bit of alcohol spills out of his cup. He frowns at it and licks the booze from his finger, the lithe movement of his tongue catching eyes. He downs the rest of his drink and then drunkenly hands the glass to someone next to him before staggering into the thick of people.

Bodies are everywhere, hands are on him, pressing to him. There’s a set of lips pressing to the back of his neck, another moving against his pulse, and Keith doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he’s getting more attention than he ever could’ve dreamed of.

He kisses a lot of people in the next fifteen minutes, a few of whom he suspects may have been women based on the sticky residues of lipstick left smeared on his mouth. A lot of people grope at him, grasping his ass and nipping at his throat, and he loves the attention but he definitely _can not_ have sex with all those people. For as drunk as he is, he’s still worried about STDs and also… rectal prolapse? Can that happen from getting fucked? He doesn’t know, but he’s not about to take the risk.

That’s how he finds himself pressed against the wall of the bar, steps away from the dance floor, pinned against Matt Holt’s chest as Matt kisses him senseless.

“Is this weird?” Matt asks, more coherent than Keith. Keith shakes his head, rolling his hips up against Matt. He pulls Matt’s face back down, sliding their lips together messily. Matt’s tongue slips out, aiming to brush over Keith’s lips but missing, sloppily licking over Keith’s chin. Keith giggles, wrapping his arms tightly around Matt’s shoulders and hitching a leg up.

“Not weird?” Matt asks again, and Keith shakes his head. “Good,” Matt continues, “because I’ve wanted to fuck you for a while now.”

Keith sighs against Matt’s lips, melting back against the wall and pulling Matt down with him. He kisses Matt blindly as Matt wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, supporting almost all of his weight as he stumbles around, searching for an exit. Eventually they trip out onto the street, lips still feverishly moving together. Matt tears his face away from Keith, ignoring Keith’s desperate whine and fielding his attempts to kiss him again, as he starts hauling ass towards the dorm block. Keith manages to stop him a few times, shoving him up against as many brick walls as possible and jamming his tongue down Matt’s throat.

Finally, Matt’s pressing Keith against the door to room 198, gripping his ass tightly with one hand, his other hand tangled tightly in Keith’s hair. He slides his hand up from Keith’s ass, slipping it into his pocket to grab his room key, and he blindly unlocks the room door. Keith stumbles in backwards, his hands grasping at the neck of Matt’s t-shirt.

“Fuck, Keith, you’re so hot,” Matt mutters, biting roughly at Keith’s lower lip. Keith moans softly into Matt’s mouth and then pulls away, dragging Matt by the collar. He punches the in the code to get into his room, yanking Matt through the door. He turns Matt around and shoves him across the room and down onto his bed, standing between Matt’s thighs. Matt looks up at him through hooded eyes, smirking in appreciation as Keith pulls his t-shirt up over his head. He sits in Matt’s lap, knees bracketing Matt’s hips, and mewls as Matt drags his hands up Keith’s exposed flesh. Impatient, he brings their lips together momentarily, then drops his head as Matt’s lips trail over his skin. He pulls back, fingers sliding over Keith’s pale skin as he admires the body in his lap. Keith smirks.

“C’mon,” he taunts softly, “are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna fuck me?”

Matt takes a heavy breath, grabbing Keith by the hair and yanking their lips together. He shoves his tongue messily into Keith’s mouth, teeth nipping at Keith’s lips as he unbuckles Keith’s belt and opens his fly. His hands slide around Keith’s back, one settling under his ribcage and the other slipping into the waistband of his jeans, groping Keith’s ass under his clothes. Matt’s mouth detaches from Keith’s with an obnoxious pop as he slides his lips over Keith’s cheek. His tongue traces the shell of his ear and he nips at his earlobe, causing Keith to shiver.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Matt growls, “Keith. Christ, I want to be inside…You feel so fucking good. You’re so good.”

Keith grips his shoulders, grinding his hips up against Matt, smearing his lips messily up Matt’s neck. He sinks his teeth into Matt’s skin, lips closing over his his neck and sucking until the skin is red and inflamed. Then he pulls back, smirking into Matt’s eyes.

“Why don’t you stop talking, and let me show you how _good_ I can be?”

 

Keith’s eyes sluggishly blink open and the first thing he notices it the warm, heavy arm draped across his chest. He turns his head towards Matt, who’s passed out against his pillow face-down, breathing deeply through his mouth. Keith smiles as he shakes his head. Then he maneuvers out from under Matt’s arm and, like he always does, checks over his body.

Firstly, his ass hurts, but not a lot. It’s a dull ache, no more painful than how it feels being stretched open, and he thanks Christ that Matt isn’t any larger because, if he was, the hours they spent fucking last night would’ve done much more of a number on him. Secondly, he’s absolutely covered in cum, not all of which is is own. It’s dried on his stomach and chest, and in trails down his thighs, and he wishes he’d cleaned up last night but it’s too late to regret that now. Finally, he’s covered in hickeys and bite marks and fuck, he didn’t know Matt liked to bite but he’s sure glad that he does; it made the whole night a little more exciting.

Matt lets out a soft groan, rolling onto his back and opening his eyes. He blinks at the ceiling and sits up, looking around slowly until his eyes latch onto Keith. He leans down over him, kissing his lips softly.

“Hey, gorgeous. Wanna go again?” he asks teasingly, trailing his thumb over Keith’s cheek. Keith rolls his eyes.

“What, you didn’t get enough of me last night?”

Matt snorts, wrapping his arm around Keith’s ribcage and tugging Keith in against him.

“It’s not gonna be weird now, is it? I didn’t wanna make things awkward,” he says, looking down into Keith’s face. Keith shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s not gonna be weird.”

“Good! Because hot damn, Keith, that was some of the best sex I’ve had in my life… you have literally no refractory period! I got you to come like, four times!” Matt says excitedly, and Keith’s cheeks flush.

“Yeah, Matt, I know, I was there,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“Bro, it was so fucking hot. You got all shy and gentle and _fuck_ , your noises-”

“Matt, please, stop,” he chuckles, tucking his face in against Matt’s chest. Matt laughs, smoothing his fingers through Keith’s hair.

“Hey, Keith, wanna go to McDick’s for break-” Lance yells loudly, keying in to code to Keith’s room and shoving the door open. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of Keith and Matt, both ass naked, cuddled up together in Keith’s bed, and Keith instantly flushes. His comforter is pooled in his and Matt’s laps, leaving his whole abdomen exposed and, from the look on his face,Lance has noticed the evidence of last night.

“Oh! Uh… I didn’t know you were… occupied,” he mumbles, face flushing red. He drops his head, staring at the floor as he scratches the back of his neck. Keith buries his face in his hands.

“Hey, Lance,” Matt says cheerily, “surprised you didn’t know I was here, considering how _vocal_ this little harlot is.”

Keith’s face flushes even darker and his buries his elbow in Matt’s ribcage. Matt chuckles, arms tightening around Keith’s waist and jostling him playfully.

“O-oh! Well, uhhh… I was pretty out of it… but anyway, do you guys want me to bring back breakfast?” Lance asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and doing whatever he can to avoid looking at Keith and Matt.

“Nah,” Matt says, “I still have half an astro group meeting to catch, so I was just gonna slap on some clothes and head out. You guys should do breakfast, though.”

Lance drops his head to the floor as Matt stands up unashamedly, but he can’t seem to keep himself from looking up at the aftermath of his night with Keith. Matt, to his credit, is cupping his dick with one hand as he wanders around the small room in search of his jeans. His pale, toned back is covered from shoulder to hips in bright red scratch marks, and there are are fingertip-shaped bruises near his ribcage. Lance blinks.

He can see it.

He can see Keith and Matt together. He can see Keith dragging his nails down Matt’s back, digging his fingers into Matt’s skin…

He shakes his head, physically trying to clear the thought away.

By this point, Matt’s slid into a pair of boxers and regained his jeans. He’s crammed his feet into his shoes and has last night’s button up shirt undone over his shoulders. He leans over, one hand pressed to the mattress next to Keith’s hip. Tilting Keith’s chin up gently with his fingertips, he presses his lips to Keith’s. He slots his top lip between Keith’s, pressing into him warmly, and, for some reason, Lance can’t look away. He catches the flush on Keith’s cheeks, growing darker and darker with each passing moment. Matt pulls back, stroking Keith’s cheek.

“See you around, Keithy,” he says, turning towards the door. “You too, Lance. Don’t be a stranger.” He pats Lance’s shoulder as he passes, slipping out of the room quietly.

Keith looks down at the comforter, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“I, uhh… pancakes?”

 

Now that O Week is through, Lance is being thrust straight into university.

And fuck, is he scared.

The first day of classes, he meets up with Hunk. They both have the same Monday, 10 a.m. Intro to Physics and they live in the same building, so they decide to walk together- partly because they want to hang out, and partly because they want to minimize the chances of getting lost.

“Did you eat?” Hunk asks, eyes trained on the campus map he’s downloaded onto his phone. Lance is glad that Hunk is so self-confident: he’d be too embarrassed about looking lost.

“Nope.”

“For fuck’s sake, Lance, you gotta eat. Wanna stop for coffee? The map says there’s a StarBucks in the STEM building,” Hunk scolds, rolling his eyes at the map. Lance smiles at him and nods, following a step behind Hunk and letting him lead the way. He orders a large iced coffee and a croissant egg sandwich, and he and Hunk sit on the ground outside their lecture room- Lance thanks God for Hunk’s fear of being late, because it means he has enough time to eat.

Hunk is sitting next to him, big legs tucked up close to his chest as he desperately rifles through his bag, searching for seemingly nothing. Lance pats his shoulder.

“Dude, your anxiety is contagious.”

Hunk blinks, eyes wide, and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry, just a bit nervous.”

“Did you take your meds?”

Hunk nods, closing his eyes as he breathes in deeply through his nose. “Yeah. I don’t know why I’m so stressed.”

“Hey, man, same. But I’ve got you,” Lance says, leaning his head against Hunk’s broad shoulder. Hunk exhales heavily, tipping his head back against the wall. They lean there for a while, Hunk’s shoulders lifting and dropping as he breathes deeply.

“Hey, queers.”

Lance’s eyes fly open, and he’s ready to hop up and give someone a piece of his mind when his gaze lands on a pair of scuffed up green Vans. He immediately smiles, trailing his view up across the person he now knows to be Pidge. She’s wearing a pair of old, torn blue jeans that definitely used to belong to Lance, cinched at the waist with a green ribbon so tightly that the fabric bunches up. With it, she’s got on a tight black bodysuit with a lace-up front and cold shoulders, and Lance rolls his eyes. Pidge’s fashion is either incredibly feminine and trendy or hand-me-downs from her brother and male friends, with absolutely no in-between, and yet she always manages to make it work. She plonks down onto the linoleum floor across from them, sipping from an iced coffee.

“You’re in this class?” Hunk asks, eyebrows cocked. Pidge smirks.

“Yup,” she replies, “didn’t wanna tell you guys till we got here because I knew you’d wanna walk together and I can’t have you cramping my style.”

“Thought you tested out of all your physics courses?” Lance wonders.

“Easy A,” she says, shrugging, “are you going to finish that?” She gestures towards his mostly eaten egg sandwich and Lance shakes his head.

“It’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” she sighs, leaning over to grab it. She hungrily crams half of the scraps into her mouth and smiles contently, closing her eyes. “Christ, that’s delicious. I didn’t have time to eat this morning, so you’re a life saver.”

“Oh, Jesus, Pidge,” Hunk grumbles, “you know you gotta eat.” He pulls his backpack into his lap and rifles through it, pulling out a granola bar and handing it over to her. She smiles brightly and blows him a kiss.

“So, any other classes you neglected to tell us about?” Lance asks after she’s finished feasting, hitting her with a jokingly bitter glare. She shrugs.

“Uh, my next class is Intro to French, so if either of you-”

“Hey, yeah! With Sendak?” Hunk asks, beaming. Pidge nods excitedly.

“Yes! What about you, Lance? In with us?”

“Nope, dropped out of French in freshman year,” he chuckles, “don’t even remember anything about it.”

“Come on, you gotta know something,” Hunk goads, gently elbowing Lance’s ribs. Lance pretends to think about it.

 _“Je suis un faguette,”_ he says. His eyes flick between Hunk’s and Pidge’s face, struggling to keep a smile off his face. He holds out for all of three seconds before giggling, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Jesus Christ, Lance,” Pidge mutters, cradling her forehead and glaring at the floor. But her lips are twitching upwards, her brow furrowing as she struggles to keep her own amusement at bay. “That was so fucking bad.”

“Shut up, that was gold,” Lance retorts, reaching out and slapping her shoulder. She fights against her smile to scowl at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s 9:50,” Hunk says, studying his phone, seemingly isolated from the conversation at hand. “Wanna go find seats? Because I don’t wanna have to sit somewhere bad…”

“Yeah, sure, big man,” Lance replies, clapping Hunk’s shoulder. He hops up and offers Hunk a hand to pull him up too. Pidge leads the way into the class, Hunk shuffling along after her. They settle into three seats towards the middle of the room, a little closer to the front because, as much as she hates to admit it, Pidge is a little too short to sit at the back- and last time Lance offered to bring her a booster seat, she kicked him so hard in the kneecap that he was limping for three days.

As soon as they’re seated, Hunk reaches into his backpack to grab his computer. He places it on the table in front of him, staring at the stickers on the cover. His fingers are tapping nervously on the table, and Lance reaches over to hold one of Hunk’s large hands in both of his own.

“Hunk, you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. Pidge stretches across from Lance’s other side, setting a small hand on his broad shoulder. Hunk stretches as he breathes, eyes focused on the tabletop and, after a moment, he nods.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’ll be fine.” He blinks, setting both hands on the table and stretching his fingers out. Lance turns away, figuring that Hunk needs some time in his own head. Instantly, Pidge collapses onto his shoulder.

“Bruh,” she mutters, “I spent so much fucking money on JetPens that I literally can’t buy textbooks.”

Lance snorts. “Big fucking mood.”

“Ugh…”

“What’d you buy?” He asks. Pidge jolts, excitedly reaching into her backpack- a green Kanken that had been a grad gift from Matt. She opens it eagerly, pulling out an overstuffed black pencil case and handing it over to Lance.

“Okay,” she says, taking out a handful of pens and highlighters, “so, these ones are new…”

 

“Oh, hey, Keith! I didn’t know you were in this class!”

Keith blinks, looking up at the sound of his name. His eyes land on Pidge, in old blue jeans and a black top, as she sits heavily and swings her legs over his lap.

“Pidge! Hey,” he replies, habitually tugging at her shoelaces. She’s still wearing the beat up green Vans he got her for her fifteenth birthday, when she was obsessed with the colour- he finds it hilarious that she hasn’t grown out of them in the past three years. She reaches out for his hands, scowling at her undone shoelaces.

“For Christ’s sake,” she mutters, “you need to cut it out with the shoelace thing.” She runs her thumbs over his knuckles and he wraps his own hands around her smaller ones.

“Dude, I’ve missed you,” he says. It’s true- he hadn’t been able to catch up with Pidge much during O Week, and she spent a lot of the summer working on projects in her basement, so he hasn’t seen nearly enough of his oldest friend since graduation.

“Clearly not that much,” she giggles, pointing at a deep purple bruise peeking out from under his collar. Keith flushes.

“Uhh…”

“Who was it?” she pries, clutching his hands closer to her chest. He blinks.

“I don’t think you wanna know…”

“Dude, come on! As long as it wasn’t my brother,” She teases. Keith clears his throat. “Oh my god. It was my brother?”

“Uhh…”

“Jesus _Christ,_ Keith! You slept with my brother?”

“Like, a little…”

“How do you sleep with my brother _a little?”_ Pidge yells, staring at him incredulously. Keith shrugs.

“Sorry, dude,” he mutters, flushing.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just castrate you on the spot,” she growls, pulling her hands back from his.He smiles sheepishly at her and she rolls her eyes.

She’ll get over it - after all, it’s not any worse than the time she stole his Pokemon card binder and swapped out all of his Shiny Pokemon with regular ones.

He’s right as, ten minutes into the lecture, she curls up into his side and falls asleep.


	2. 102 - Intro to "Conflict Resolution"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loneliness, pizza rolls, and a little bit of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back nerds

“ _Si_ , mama,” Lance says, knees tucked up under his chin as he smiles at his mother through his computer screen.

“I miss you so much, baby.” His mom smiles sadly back at him, “I don’t know who’s going to help me take care of the leftovers when I make too much dinner.”

“Well, dang, I’m only an hour away! Drive ‘em over!” Lance jokes- okay, he partially jokes, because he could really go for some of his mom’s home cooking.

“Maybe I just might. And I’ll make some tamales for Keith, too. How is Keith doing, by the way?”

“He’s good! I haven’t seen him much today, I think he’s out for coffee.”

“Oh, a date?” his mom asks, raising her eyebrow suggestively. Lance rolls his eyes.

“Might be a little early in the year for that, don’t you think?”

“Ah, well, maybe just a bit,” his mom admits, shrugging. The familiar creaking of his home’s old screen door pierces the background of his mom’s end and she looks towards the door.

“Ah, baby, Ms. Garcia is here, I have to go. Call me any time, though, _mi amor,_ and have fun! I love you!”

“Love you too, mama!”

He waves at his mother until the Skype call disconnects and he’s left staring at her profile picture. He sighs deeply, closing his laptop. He gets up from his desk chair, dragging his blanket along the floor behind him as he trudges to bed. Once he gets to his bed, he curls up.

His chest hurts, and it’s not like him.

Lance has always been a very independent kid- he was the only one of his siblings who loved summer camp and he could spend months there, and he always looked for opportunities to spend time away from home. But now, it feels like his heart is being pulled down into his stomach: he misses his mom so much. He misses their little house in the suburbs of Seattle. He misses the weekend trips they’d take up to their little cottage, where he sat on top of a cliff overlooking the lake and came out to his mom for the first time. He misses her home cooking and how she always tried to raise Lance and his siblings to be true to their Cuban roots. He misses his brothers and the way they always pushed each other off the play structure in their backyard (until Luis accidentally broke Keith’s ankle and they all got shouted at). He misses hanging out with Veronica on the back porch, where she taught him to make friendship bracelets and throw a solid punch.

He pulls his knees up to his chest, blinking moisture out of his eyes. He stares blankly across his little dorm room, eyes landing on his backpack where his unopened textbook lies- it’s way too early to be falling behind but getting up to study seems like a Herculean task at the moment. So, instead, he stands and trudges to Keith’s room, punching in the code to get in.

It’s empty.

Of _course_.

Lance has hardly seen Keith over the course of the past two weeks- it’s like he’s already gotten into the swing of university.

It’s like he’s leaving Lance behind.

Lance wraps his blanket even tighter around his shoulders as he shuffles back out of Keith’s room and into his own.

 

Keith is already swamped.

He knew English lit could be a tough major, and he was expecting to have to read a lot, but _fuck,_ isn’t this a little bit much?

He’s sitting at his desk, head cradled in one hand while he anxiously scans the reading list for his contemporary literature class. On it are ten book titles, eight of which he’s never read- and that’s just for _one class._

He’s always been good at school, and especially at English. He’s not used to feeling so… _suffocated._

And, to make it worse, he hasn’t seen Lance in forever. It seems like every time he gets back to the dorm, Lance is out. Every time he texts him for lunch or dinner, Lance is busy. Lance’s texts are brief and his phone calls are non-existent.

Did Lance find new friends already? Is he… he’s not moving on, is he?

Keith sighs heavily. No. Lance made a promise to stay with him, didn’t he? And, for all of Lance’s little faults- his terrible memory, his vanity, his obsession with bubblegum pop- he always keeps his promises.

Keith gulps.

Lance just needs his time. They’re going through big changes- they both need some time.

But, when Keith surrenders to his exhaustion, it hurts to check his phone to find his lock screen void of Lance’s customary goodnight message. It had been a habit since Keith had first gotten his phone- Lance had texted him good night every single night. He did it to try and help Keith with his insomnia- the rule was, when Lance texted goodnight, Keith had to go to bed. And it stuck with them long past Keith’s insomnia; even at summer camp, Lance would sneak away at night to text Keith goodnight.

He checks his phone again.

No text.

Keith stares at the ceiling in the dark for over two hours before giving in. He reaches into the plastic bin under his bed, pouring too many melatonin tablets into his palm, dry swallowing it like he hasn’t done for years.

It’s going to be a hard night. 

 

Lance is sitting at a campus cafe, trying to lose himself in his calculus homework and sipping a chai latte, pen twirling between his fingers. He’s startled out of is daze by the sound of the chair across from him pulling out and he looks up at whoever is stealing the seat.

“Hey, Lance,” Allura says, smiling softly. She pushes across a dessert plate with a chocolate croissant- his favourite- and sets her own coffee and blueberry muffin down. Then she reaches into her purse, pulling out a pink notebook and her pencil case.

“Lur! Hey, I’ve missed you,” Lance exclaims, beaming. She reaches across the table and takes his hand, holding it tightly and stroking across his knuckles with her thumbs.

“Missed you, too,” she says, “how’s uni been treating you?”

Lance shrugs, picking up his croissant, and Allura leans over the table to look at his calculus homework. She gasps audibly, eyes widening in shock. “Whoa, what the hell is that? Christ, I’m so glad I’m in international relations.”

“It’s not too bad, high school stuff. You should see what _Pidge_ is doing,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes. Allura clucks her tongue.

“Come on, Beans,” she scolds, and Lance holds up his hands in surrender. He’s gotten this lecture before, about not downplaying his accomplishments. He really doesn’t want to hear it again, so he changes the subject.

“You really gotta stop calling me Beans, Lur,” he mumbles, “I haven’t owned a Beanie Baby in, what, eight years? Let me get past this.”

Allura shrugs and shakes her head, long ponytail flipping behind her. “Nope. How else am I supposed to remember little Lancey boy with the Beanie Baby collection?”

“A scrapbook,” he deadpans. She reaches over, pinching his cheek.

“Come on, Beans, don’t rob me like this.” She pouts. Lance rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, covering her hand with his own. He looks into her warm, familiar eyes for another moment before dropping her hand and turning back to his homework. She turns to her own notes, and the two of them sit in silence for a little while, the only noises being the scratching of their pens.

“Beans?” Allura asks after about fifteen minutes. Lance sets him pen down and looks up at her.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” she asks, perfect brows furrowing. She looks at him with genuine caring and concern. He shrugs.

“I mean, yeah. I’m fine,” he lies. He picks his pen back up, twirlingit erratically.

“Lance…” she says, trying again. She knows that, after years, Lance can’t really lie to her. He can already feel his defences crumbling.

“Well, I miss home. Obviously. I want to see my mom,” he admits. He’s not telling her everything, he _knows_ that, even though she could probably help him. She frowns at him sadly.

“Is that it?”

Lance sighs. “Yeah, Lur, that’s all. I’m just, like, tired, you know? First few weeks of college and all, you feel?”

He’s lying through his teeth and he doesn’t know why. There are few people in the world that he never lies to: his mother, Hunk, Pidge, Allura… and Keith.

He misses Keith, but he doesn’t want to sound pathetic.

Allura stares at him sadly for another moment before sighing and picking up her phone, checking the time.

“I have class in ten,” she says, grabbing her book and pencil case and shoving them back into her purse. “So I gotta blast. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Lance says. He reaches out for her hand and she squeezes his gently in return, lightly scratching the back of his wrist.

“I love you, Beans.” She removes her hand from his grip and reaches out to ruffle his hair. He grimaces but otherwise doesn’t try to stop her.

“Love you too, Lur. See you around!”

He watches as she leaves, stopping every couple of metres to greet a new person and pat a new shoulder. Once she’s out of sight, he turns back to his paper.

He can hardly recognize the equations in his book. He sets his elbows on the table, leaning forward to cradle his head. And he can feel it: he can feel himself slipping into self-doubt again, slowing convincing himself that he isn’t worthy.

He misses Allura already.

He misses _Keith._

Keith, who would always scold Lance for his self-deprecating jokes that weren’t really just jokes, who would ask Lance for help with concepts that Lance knew he already understood just so Lance could feel smarter.

He crams his shit back into his backpack and hauls ass towards his dorm. He doesn’t want to have a freak-out, at least not in the goddamn cafe.

When he gets back to his room, he dumps his backpack in the corner near the door, where it’ll stay for the rest of the weekend.

 

It’s been a week since Keith has seen Lance. He’s finally gotten into the swing of classes, he’s tamed down his reading list, and he’s built himself a schedule to not go insane.

But he’s hardly slept.

He misses Lance so much.

And he’s done with this… this _whatever_ it is, where Lance avoids him and fields his calls and never meets him for meals.

He lets himself into Lance’s dorm room with a book, a packet of multicoloured page flags, and a pen, settling into Lance’s bed to study while he waits for him to get back. He’s waging an ambush- whatever conversation has to happen, it’s happening today.

Keith is only waiting for about ten minutes when Lance keys in his code, head tilted down at the ground as he steps over the threshold to his room. He’s wearing earphones and he doesn’t even look up for a moment, pausing his music.

His movement stops entirely when he sees Keith. His mouth drops open in shock before he forces his face back into a more composed expression. Keith smiles softly at him, dog-earing his page and setting in on Lance’s night table.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says, stepping past him and setting his backpack on his desk chair.

Keith, _not_ Squeaks. Not Lance’s nickname for him since they were eleven, when Keith’s voice cracked during a class presentation and nobody laughed at him but Lance.

Keith turns, watching Lance’s back as he walks further into the room.

“Are you okay?” he asks, choosing to bite the bullet instead of skirting around the conversation. He’s not been known for sugarcoating issues, and he’s not about to start now.

“What? Yeah. Of course,” Lance says and, without even seeing his face, Keith can tell that he’s lying. He sets his hand on Lance’s back and he tenses. Lance, who loves all forms of physical attention, who essentially taught Keith physical intimacy, tenses.

“Lance…” Keith whispers, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to turn around. Lance blinks at the ground, avoiding Keith’s eyes.

“Keith, why are you here?”

“Because you’re ignoring me. You haven’t… you never done that. And I miss you,” Keith insists, grabbing Lance’s chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. Lance grabs his wrist and yanks his hand away.

“Well, I didn’t realize you noticed. Thought you were too busy moving on,” he spits angrily, pushing Keith away from him.

“What-”

“And you know what sucks most about this? You’re the one who made the promise. You’re the one who asked me to stay with you, and then you just go and break it like it means _nothing._ What the hell kind of best friend does that? Huh, Keith? What the hell kind of best friend?” He cries, his eyes wide and angry. His voice is thick and deep, how it sounds when he’s fighting back tears.

Keith feels like he’s had his lungs ripped out.

All this time, he thought Lance was moving on… and Lance thought he was moving on.

He charges across the room with heavy strides and Lance’s eyes widen. He raises his arms as though to defend himself and Keith knocks them out of the way, crashing into Lance’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. He buries his face in Lance’s neck, holding him.

It takes a few minutes, but Lance holds him, too.

“I missed you… Keith, I missed you so much. I missed you _so much,_ don’t leave me,” Lance whimpers into Keith’s hair, clutching him tightly.

“I thought you were moving on. I thought you were the one getting over me,” Keith breathes, hands gripping the fabric of Lance’s blue sweater. Lance pulls back slightly, eyes wide.

“What?”

“You… I just thought you were ignoring me,” Keith says, “because I’d call and you wouldn’t answer, and you were never home, and you stopped coming for lunch with me… I thought you were done with me.”

Lance grabs Keith’s elbows, pulling him towards the bed. He sits down, pulling Keith onto his lap and wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist.

“I really thought you were ignoring me. Because, during the first week, you were never around. I missed you,” Lance whispers into Keith’s shirt collar.

“I was so swamped, Lance. I wasn’t expecting the sheer amount of work I’d have to wade through and I didn’t know how to handle it,” Keith admits. It’s something he’s never really had to say before- advanced placement kid, right? Lance gasps.

“Ah, Squeaks, I… I didn’t know!” he cries, tightening his hold around Keith’s midriff. He leans back, lying on his bed with Keith on top of him. “Squeaks, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no, I just wasn’t expecting to be so… average,” Keith admits, chuckling.

“You’re running with the rest of us, eh?” Lance jokes, but his voice is heavy and sad as he rubs his nose against Keith’s shoulder.

“Lance,” Keith scolds softly, and Lance huffs through his nose.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m smart.”

“Bro,” Keith says again, turning around and glaring. Lance cracks a smile, sticking his tongue out. Keith bumps his forehead against Lance’s.

“I missed you,” he whispers. Lance idly taps against his back, breathing in slowly.

“I missed you, too.”

 

“Hey, Pidge,” Keith says as he sets his bag down at her cafe table. She barely glances up from her tablet, where she’s scrawled out dozens of carefully crafted equations for things that Keith doesn’t even dream of knowing about.

“Sup,” she mutters towards her textbook. Keith just shrugs, reaching across the table for her coffee, and her head shoots up.

“I will tear your balls off and hacky-sack them into the fucking sun,” she growls, snarling at his hand until he pulls it away from her mug. Then she nods, looking back down at her work. But there’s something off about her. Keith can tell. She’s usually grumpy, but she’s never this… tense. She’s never really irritable, but now he can feel anger and frustration rolling off of her in heavy, choking waves. He touches her shoulder, and she snaps up twitchily.

“What?” she snaps. Keith’s eyes widen as he blinks in surprise.

“Whoa, there, buckaroo,” he says, holding up both hands in front of him, “are you alright.”

Pidge just sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

No longer surprised, Keith arches a brow at her and stares flatly. “And why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re a prick?” she suggests, but it’s not her typical easy, bantering tone.

“Is it school?” he asks, know that, for as kind as she truly is, Pidge is emotionally inept. If he wants to get to the bottom of her problems, he’s going to have to pry a bit.

She shakes her head and puts her stylus down, curling up in her chair so her chin is on her knees. “No, it’s not school. I have school covered,” she says, blinking. She stares at the cobblestone to Keith’s left, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, as she pushes her glasses up her nose. Keith leans his elbows on the table.

“Pidge, what’s up?”

“Well, I, uhh…” she whispers, rubbing over her knuckles with her thumb. “Keith, how did you know you were gay?”

Well, that’s _not_ where he was expecting this conversation to be going.

He inhales deeply as he thinks about it, cocking his head to the side and furrowing his brows.

“Well, I heard a lot of the guys my age talking about girls and how pretty they were and everything like that, but I didn’t really get it. Girls were… well, girls, you know? Nothing too exciting about them.”

“Thanks,” Pidge deadpans. Keith holds up a finger.

“I’m not done, gremlin,” he chuckles, “anyway. As guys my age started talking about girls and feelings and sex and stuff, I just didn’t get it. But then, Shiro brought a friend of his home, and it all kind of… clicked? His name was Luke, and when I saw him for the first time, all the stuff that the other boys had said made sense. And I kinda just realized that, what the other guys felt for girls, I felt for boys. It wasn’t a huge deal, it just happened?”

“Oh… okay,” she says, staring into her mug. He reaches across for her hand.

“What’s up, Pidge?”

“Keith, I…” she whispers, eye flicking up to his face and then back down. “I think I might be gay.”

Keith gasps, blinking. This was really not was he was expecting. He gets up and walks around the table to crouch next to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“Hey, hey, that’s okay! That’s totally okay, Katie,” he coos because, and he doesn’t know why, she’s crying. He coaxes her legs down so he can rest his arms on her thighs, looking up into her face. “Katie, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just, I don’t know. When Matt came out there was a huge issue, and my parents were so mad for a really long time and Nonno and Nonnina still won’t even look at him and I don’t wanna lose my family, Keith, and I’m scared.”

Keith has never had to face intolerance in his family. His adoptive mom would be the first to go to war for him; she’s never been known to take mercy on the kids who used to make fun of him for his girly face and his accent. Shiro has been gay since before any of them can remember, and Krolia has and would threaten anyone who dared to belittle Keith for his sexuality. But he knows about the Holt’s struggles with Matt- he’s sat in bed, listening to Matt cry into Shiro’s chest through the wall.

He cradles Pidge’s face in his hands, thumbing tears away from her amber eyes. She leans down, hunching over her own lap and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“Pidge, shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, standing up straighter to look at her. She breathes in shakily, blinks up at him as she lets him pull her into his arms.

“I know you’re scared, I know,” he breathes, “but it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. You have family right here, people who love you. It’ll be alright.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do if my parents get mad at me. I don’t… Keith, what am I supposed to do?” she cries, knotting her fingers in the back of his sweater. He trails his fingers through her hair.

As a general rule, Katie Holt does not cry. Keith’s never seen her be so outwardly emotional, especially not sober. He’s her oldest friend; he’s watched her go through hell and back without cracking. He’s seen her through deaths of pets, fights with friends, even the accident that put her dad in a coma and the months Matt spent missing. And yet never has he seen her so visibly upset.

“Katie, I promise it’s going to be okay,” he breathes into her hair. She takes a shaky breath and clutches him infinitesimally closer to her for just a second before letting go. She wipes her face with her palms, staring at her lap. After a minute, she lifts her feet back up to her chair and wraps her arms around her legs, setting her chin on her knees. She looks up at Keith through red eyes, her short eyelashes forming stiff, damp triangles, and she sighs.

“Keith, I-”

“You’re gonna be okay.”

Pidge hesitates for a minute, her brow furrowing as she looks at him. She takes another breath.

“I’m gonna be okay.”

Keith leans back down, resting his elbows on her knees. He taps her nose with his finger.

“I love you.”

And Katie Holt, that little warrior, cracks a smile. She leans down, knocking her forehead against his.

“Love you, too.”

 

Lance has a secret- he completely hates every form of responsibility. He’s a youngest child, okay? He’s not used to having to fend for himself. But now, staring at his light-up oil diffuser, empty glass bottle in hand and stomach rumbling, he’s fast-approaching the realization that he really doesn’t have much of a choice: if he wants to survive, he’s gonna have to go grocery shopping.

He picks up an empty bag, chucking his wallet and room key into it before leaving his room. He pops his head into Keith’s.

“Hey, going grocery shopping, do you need anything?”

Keith freezes, pen slipping from his hand as he turns his wide, stunned eyes to Lance. “ _You’re_ going _grocery shopping?”_

“Yes, Keith. I’m an eighteen year old man, you know,” he quips back, jokingly defensive. Keith shakes his head as though he’s physically clearing his mind.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Where’s my Lance and what have you done with him?” he demands, getting up and walking towards Lance, who’s leaning against the doorframe. Lance rolls his eyes.

“Do you want anything? Or can I leave,” he chuckles. Keith just laughs, setting his hands on Lance’s shoulders.

“Cheez-its,” he says earnestly, staring into Lance’s eyes. They keep the eye contact for just a few seconds before breaking down into giggles, chuckling out things like “we’re so stupid,” “this isn’t funny,” and “I’m so tired.”

Once they’ve both contained themselves, Lance gives Keith a pointed looks. “You’re lactose intolerant, remember?”

“It’s a cleanse,” Keith replies, pulling out his wallet.

“Yeah, I don’t think eating something you’re allergic to and then shitting out your internal organs counts as a _cleanse,_ ” Lance deadpans.

“Totally does, read it in Men’s Health.”

“Do you want me to get you stuff? Or do you want to go grocery shopping by yourself?” Lance asks, setting both hands on his hips and cocking his eyebrows.

Keith sighs. “Fine! Uh… beef ramen, almond milk, a thing of PopTarts, uhhh… pepperoni Pizza Pockets?” he asks. Lance rolls his eyes.

“Real healthy diet you got there,” he quips. Keith pokes his ribcage and Lance yelps. “I’m just stirring your pasta, man. I got it.”

Keith tries to hand him thirty dollars but Lance smacks it away. “I got it,” he insists, “think of it like payment for the years you’ve had to put up with my hoe ass.”

“Lance, let me pay you,” Keith pleads. Lance just flips him off.

“Really?” Keith asks again, holding up the money. Lance just shrugs, smiling cutely, and Keith slips the money back into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“No problemo, Squeaks,” he replies, patting Keith’s shoulder, “gonna hold this over your head until we both die.”

Keith grimaces. “You’re an asshole.”

“You love me!”

“You love me, too,” Keith replies, rolling his eyes. “Now go, before it gets too dark.”

“I’ll bring you your shit soon, ‘kay, Squeaks?”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Lance pulls the door shut behind him as he leaves Keith’s room, going over Keith’s grocery list in his head. Halfway down the hall, he realizes that, yup, without his mom here, he’s out of his depth, but it’s not like he can call his mom to drive an hour up to him… can he?

No. No, he cannot.

But, while he may not have his mom, he has the next best thing.

He knocks on Hunk’s door.

“Who is it?”

“Who do you fucking think?” Lance replies, chuckling. He hears Hunk sigh deeply through the door before the lock clicks and he pulls it open.

“What do you want, Lance?” he asks in mock amusement, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow.

“Help.”

“Oh, mood?” Hunk chuckles, “what’s up?”

“Wanna come to Target with me?” Lance asks, holding up his car keys. Hunk glances back at the open textbook on his desk, and then at the desolate, plastic shelves next to his mini-fridge, serving as his pantry. He shrugs.

“I don’t see why not,” he says. Lance waits in the doorway while Hunk wanders around his room, grabbing a cloth bag and slipping his wallet into his back pocket.

They walk to Lance’s car in a comfortable silence, and Hunk immediately starts fiddling with the radio, plugging his phone into the aux and scrolling through his albums. He puts on the new Panic! at the Disco album, shuffling it until he gets High Hopes, and then locks his phone and puts it in the cupholder.

“How’ve you been?” Lance asks, glancing at Hunk out of the corner of his eye. Hunk looks up from picking at the frayed knee of his jeans to smile warmly.

“I’m pretty good! Lotta work, though, dude! Didn’t realize how much shit went into marketing- I _just_ wanna own a restaurant,” he says, chuckling. He scratches the back of his neck, smiling down at this lap.

“Big mood,” Lance replies, “corporate comm is more intense than I was bargaining for, too.”

“Guess we’re both a little out of our leagues, hey?” Hunk says, tugging gently at the cuffs of his sweater. Lance rolls his eyes and sighs, smiling out at the road.

They fall back into silence for the rest of the drive, Brendon Urie’s warm voice filling in the void as Hunk scrolls through his Instagram explore page, occasionally snorting at a meme and narrating it to Lance.

After ten minutes, Lance pulls into the mostly empty Target parking lot, parking sloppily and hoping that no one puts him on the Idiots in Cars Reddit thread.

“Ready to waste all of our income?” he asks, blinking at the brightly lit storefront. Hunk wolf-whistles, popping open his car door and hopping out.

“Cart time, cart time, cart time,” he cheers softly, happily bouncing over to the cart hut while Lance locks the car and chases after him. It’s been nearly seven years since it’s started but, to this day, Lance doesn’t understand Hunk’s obsession with unlocking and driving shopping carts. He steps in front of the cart when Hunk starts pushing it and climbs inside, holding his and Hunk’s bags on his lap. Hunk chuckles.

They get a few weird looks as Hunk pushes the cart towards the door, and Lance smiles at everyone they walk past. Everybody probably assumes they’re boyfriends, and a couple of old, white people throw scowls at them, but Lance hasn’t had quality Hunk time in a while and he’s not about to let anyone ruin it.

“Hunk?”

“Yeah?” Hunk replies, putting extra effort into shoving the cart over the door tracks. Lance grabs the sides as he’s jostled around in the cart basin.

“If you were a Nintendo game console, which one would you be?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Hunk replies, chuckling heartily. It’s a bonafide Lance Question- a stupid one that makes no sense but, somehow, reveals a lot about someone’s personality- and they both know it.

“Just answer it!”

“Fine, uh… a Wii. I think they’re under-appreciated now. Also, they’re a little impractical but, when you have the energy to bust it out, it can be a lot of fun,” Hunk says, maneuvering the cart into the canned foods aisle. Lance leans his forearms on the edge of the cart and rests his chin on them, watching as Hunk surveys his Chef Boyardee ravioli options.

“I think I’d be a Switch.”

“Hmm?”

“Like, a Nintendo Switch. Shiny and new, versatile-”

“Shiny and new?” Hunk repeats and, with his back turned, Lance can’t see the smirk rising on his face.

“Yup, that’s what I-” and it clicks. “Hunk, no-”

_“Like a virgin, touched for the very first time! Like a virgin, when your heart beats next to mine!”_

Lance clamps his hands over his ears and curls up, glaring at Hunk, who beams. He keeps humming Madonna as he dumps cans into the cart around Lance’s legs and takes his place back behind the cart. Lance pulls out his phone, opening Instagram and turning on the Story camera, pointing it upwards at himself. He captures a short video of himself rolling his eyes as Hunk sings Madonna in the background and posts it to his story.

“So, what do you need to get?” Hunk asks when he’s finally tired himself out with Madonna.

“Uh, ramen, pizza rolls, and other shit for Squeaks,” he says, “a new lemon scented oil for me, some face wash, and various foods that are very carb-heavy.”

Hunk snorts, rolling his eyes as he pulls a left out of the aisle. “So, frozen foods next?”

“Yup!” Lance replies happily, hopping out of the cart to walk alongside Hunk- for as fun as it was getting pushed around, he doesn’t want to be sitting there when Hunk starts putting frozen foods in.

“Okay, so I know you said pizza rolls for Keith, but he’s still lactose intolerant,” Hunk points out, eying the assorted bags of pizza rolls suspiciously. Lance just shrugs.

“He says it’s a _cleanse._ ”

“Shitting yourself isn’t a cleanse,” Hunk says, and Lance shrugs again.

“Not my business.”

“You share a bathroom with him.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

“So, ‘za rolls for Keith or self-preservation?” Hunk asks, holding up a bag of pepperoni Pizza Pockets. Lance winces as he weighs his options.

“Well, let’s be real, it’s _Keith_ we’re talking about here. Man loves his ‘za pockets so, whether I buy them or not, he’s gonna get ‘em. With this, at least, I can demand a favour from him because I bought him his groceries. Cart ‘em, Hunk,” he says and, sure, maybe he just sold his sanity away but, come on, it’s not like he could deny Keith anything.

“Lancey-Lance, such a pushover,” Hunk teases as he places a bag of Pizza Rolls in the cart. Lance flips him off. He grabs himself a bag of pizza pockets, and a package of frozen gyoza even though he doesn’t need it because, Jesus Christ, he has a meal plan.

“Alrighty, Hunk, ramen time!”

“That shit is so bad for you.”

“You’re the one who picked up seven cans of Chef Boyardee,” Lance replies, hitting Hunk with a flat glare. Hunk stares at him for a moment before he shrugs, conceding the point. He leads the way to the next aisle.

“Okay, what kind?” he asks.

“Squeaks likes beef.”

“Well, yeah, but what kind of ramen does he want?”

Lance blinks in confusion for a moment until Hunk’s joke settles in and he scowls. “Har dee har, Hunk.”

“Come on, that was a good one,” Hunk insists, nudging at Lance’s ribcage with his elbow. “Come on, come on, dude, it was great.”

Lance just keeps scowling.

“Okay, damn, tough crowd,” Hunk mutters, grabbing cups of ramen and dumping them into the cart. Lance blows air out heavily through his nose.

“That was a really good joke and you know it,” he admits begrudgingly. Hunk whoops, pumping his arms above his head as he leads the way out of the aisle.

They make a quick stop in the dairy aisle, where Hunk grabs rocky road ice cream and Lance grabs two different flavours of almond milk for Keith and a block of cheese for himself. They also peruse the chip aisle, where Hunk and Lance both pick up party sized bags of Doritos (they grab Sour Cream and Onion for Keith, because he’s a freak show). Once there’s too much stuff in their cart and Lance is half-certain that his debit card is going to decline, they head to the checkout, where Hunk lines up as Lance darts off to pick up essential oil, face wash and, for kicks, a new concealer that’s probably not his shade.

Lance sits in the cart again as Hunk pushes all their goods towards Lance’s car, bundled up with carabiner clips to separate their things. He hops out of the cart to help Hunk load everything into his trunk. Then he starts the car, driving it over tho the cart hut to pick Hunk up from there.

“We got everything, right?” Hunk asks as he climbs into the passenger’s seat. Lance shrugs.

“I hope so.”

“Sounds good.”

Hunk does his best to cross his legs in Lance’s small car, resting his ankle on his other knee. He picks at the frayed knee hole of his jeans. He’s not nearly as bubbly as Lance usually knows him to be.

“How’ve you been, dude?” he asks, glancing at Hunk out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m alright! Tired,” Hunk replies. He plugs his phone into the aux, turning on an Oh Wonder album softly.

“How’ve your drugs been?”

“They’re still making me sick, but they’re alright otherwise! Mad acid reflux, though. God damn,” Hunk replies, rolling his eyes. Lance chuckles.

“You think they’re helping?”

“Yeah, I think so. It hasn’t really been long enough to know, so hopefully,” he says. He sighs, turning up the volume of his music just a little, and Lance takes the cue that Hunk is tired of talking about this. Hunk’s always been a little like this; he has a threshold of talking about his own personal issues and, once the threshold’s been surpassed, he shuts down. And it’s just gotten even more noticeable after his diagnosis.

Lance decides not to push it. He watches as Hunk fiddles with the cuffs of his sweater, staring down into his lap.

After a few minutes, they pull into the residence hall parking lot. He helps Hunk unload their groceries, and the two walk back into the building in slightly awkward silence.

“I’ll walk you to yours. I miss Keith,” Hunk says, chuckling. Lance smiles.

“Aye, thanks,” he says. They reach Lance’s room and he unlocks the door, letting them into the common room. Then he punches in Keith’s code, letting the two of them into his room.

“Hey, Squeaks.”

“Lance! Oh, and hey, Hunk,” Keith says, getting up from he desk. He reaches for the shopping bags in Lance’s hands, setting them on his bed and rifling through them.

“You guys are actually the best,” he says, pulling out ramen cups and pizza rolls. Hunk chuckles, picking up the food that Keith unloads and sorting it into his mini fridge and the little storage container underneath it.

“How’ve you been, Hunk?” Keith asks after he’s finished rifling through Lance’s shopping bags.

“I’m good! Missed you, though, dude.”

“I’ve missed you, too! Dude, it sucks that we haven’t seen each other that much,” Keith sighs, wrapping his arms around Hunk’s broad shoulders. Hunk cuddles him back. They start talking about classes and notes and how stressed they both are when Hunk’s phone cuts them off. He answers it.

“Hey, Pidge- whoa, slow down. Are you alright?”

Lance and Keith share a quizzical frown and Keith, wanting to be ready if they need to go somewhere, strips out of his sweatpants and starts pulling on a pair of black jeans.

“Are you hurt?” Hunk asks Pidge, “okay, okay, I’ll come get you. Just sit tight… where are you? Okay. You’ll be okay, Pidge. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

He hangs up the phone and slides it into his pocket, looking up with a deep frown.

“Hey, sorry, guys, I gotta go,” he says. Lance grabs his wrist.

“Hunk, what’s up?”

“I, uhh, something’s wrong with Pidge.”

“Yeah, we gathered that,” Keith replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s happening?”

Hunk sighs deeply. “She’s at a bar, and there’s this asshole who won’t leave her alone. I’m going to go pick her up.”

“We’re coming with you,” Lance insists. Hunk frowns at him, deliberating, before he sighs.

“Can I stop you?”

“Absolutely not,” Keith replies because he loves Pidge and, whatever’s happening, it sounds dangerous and he’s so in.

 

After ten minutes, the three of them pull into a spot on the road in front of the bar. Hunk and Keith hop out as Lance parks, all of them beelining towards the door. They flash their fake IDs at the bouncer, pushing into the club. Pidge is sitting at the bar, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She clutches at her bomber jacket, smiling bitterly at a man sitting on a stool next to her.

“What do we…” Keith starts to whisper to Lance, but Hunk is already barrelling towards her. He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her neck, saying ‘hey, baby,’ so loudly that Lance and Keith can hear it over the pounding noise of the bar. They follow Hunk to flank him, and Lance slides his hand into Keith’s.

“Who the hell are you?” The strange guy demands of Hunk. Hunk glares.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Daniel.”

“Hunk. What’d you want with my girlfriend?”

“Ha, girlfriend? Bitch, you could do way better than that fat ass,” Daniel chuckles snidely, reaching out to grab Pidge’s hand. She yanks her hand away, grimacing.

“Do we have a problem here?” Keith asks, stepping in. Hunk takes the opportunity to pull Pidge from the barstool, positioning her between himself and Lance, holding her small body against his. Daniel eyes Keith up and down.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s who. What business do you have with Kate?” Keith asks. He puffs his chest out, crossing his arms and thanking God that Daniel is just slightly shorter than him; it’s hard to menace people if they’re looking down at him.

Daniel cracks him knuckles, narrowing his eyes. “What does it fucking matter? She can talk for herself.”

“Listen up, fucker,” Keith growls, stepping into Daniel’s space. “You can get over there and apologize to her, or we can step outside right now.”

Daniel throws his chin up, looking down at Pidge like she’s gum on the floor. “Sorry you’re such a stuck-up bitch.”

Lance reaches out, grabbing Daniel by the back of his neck. “Okay, buddy, we’re doing this.”

His hand flexes as he tightens his grip, dragging Daniel out of the bar. Keith, Hunk, and Pidge follow, trailing Lance out of the bar and into the dark alley next to it. Lance shoves Daniel against the wall.

“Listen up, buddy. We’re fucking done with you,” Lance growls. Daniel shrugs.

“Fucking whatever. She’s a bitch anyway. So why don’t you assholes just go home and fuck your little slut and leave me-”

Lance punches him right in the mouth. During his recoil, Keith steps in, grabbing Daniel by the hair. He drags Daniel’s head down, meeting his face with a swift knee to the nose.

“Fuck!” Daniel shouts, hands scrabbling at Keith’s wrist. He forces Keith back just enough to punch him in the eye, and Keith yells. Daniel forces him back against the alley wall, slamming his head back against the brick. He slams his fist into Keith’s face again, and a loud crunching sound echoes through the alley.

“Keith!” Lance yells, clearly terrified. Keith watches out of the corner of his eye as Hunk grabs Lance, holding him back with a thick arm around his neck.

Keith just spits blood into Daniel’s eye and, immediately after, knees him in the crotch. Then he grabs Daniel by the hair again, and throws him to the ground in the alley.

Once he’s on the ground, Keith takes the opportunity to kick him in the stomach. Then he pins him down, knees on each of Daniel’s wrists. He punches him in the face, watching in satisfaction as Daniel’s cheek splits open. He punches him again, and again, until his nose is misaligned and bleeding, his eyes are nearly swollen shut, and Keith’s shirt is covered in blood.

“Keith, cool it!” Lance yells, reaching out. He grabs Keith under the armpits, lifting him off the half-conscious man on the ground.

“Get off me! Jesus, Lance!”

“Squeaks, that’s enough. It’s done, it’s done, cool it,” Lance says, pulling Keith backwards and holding him tightly to his chest. Keith glares at Daniel, bleeding on the ground and fighting to get up. He watches in satisfaction as Daniel spits out a bloody tooth and struggles to his feet.

“You are fucking insane!” He yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Keith.

“Dude, if you wanna fucking live, shut your mouth,” Lance growls. Keith is just about snarling, and Daniel can obviously tell that he won’t come out on top of the situation, so he turns tail and books it.

Keith is still furious, straining against Lance’s grip as though he wants to chase Daniel down the alley, so Lance lifts him completely off his feet and turns him around to face Pidge and Hunk.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks her. She smiles, somewhat sadly, and nods.

“Yeah, just pissed off and a little nervous,” she admits. Hunk pats her shoulder, tugging her in against his side. “Keith, you’re bleeding. You okay?”

“Hmm?” Keith asks, raising his eyebrow.

“You got punched in the face, dumbass,” Lance mutters, gently grabbing Keith by the chin and turning his face towards him. “I think he broke your fucking nose.”

“I’m fine,” Keith insists, grabbing Lance’s wrist. He pulls his hand away from his face. Instead, he slides his fingers in between Lance’s, holding his hand tightly.

“Alright, fuck this place,” Lance mutters, “let’s go home.”

Keith follows after Lance, hands still connected as Lance leads the way out of the alley. They hop into Lance’s car, and Lance turns the heat on as they wait for Pidge and Hunk to get in.

The ride back to the residence building is silent and vaguely awkward. Once they’re back at the building, Keith hops out of the car and opens Pidge’s door for her. He wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“You good, Katie?” He asks. She turns to face him.

“I’m fine, Keith, you’re the one who’s bleeding. You didn’t have to do that,” she says, gingerly cradling Keith’s face in her hands.

“I’m okay, Pidge. It’s just a few punches, I’ll live.”

“You better hope you heal fine. You’re nothing without your pretty face,” she quips, gently stroking her fingers over a forming bruise on his cheek. He flinches just a little bit and she shakes her head at him.

“Don’t be so reckless all the time,” she whispers, “we need you alive, Keithy.”

Keith looks down sadly at her and wraps his arms around her, tugging her in tightly against his chest. He rubs his hands up her back, burying his face in her neck. She pulls back after a few seconds and leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Good night, Keith.”

“Good night, Pidge.”

He watches as she walks over to Hunk, who loops his arm over her shoulders and walks her into the building. Then he turns around to face Lance, who’s already staring at him, leaning against the hood of her car with his arms crossed. He tips his chin towards the building and pushes off the car, walking across the parking lot in long, purposeful steps. Keith scrambles to keep up, chasing Lance into the building and all the way up to their room, where he grabs his wrist.

“Lance, what’s wrong?” he asks, tugging Lance backwards. Lance just shakes his head at him, jamming his key into the lock and forcing his way into the room, dragging Keith in behind him. He pulls Keith into the bathroom, pushing him up against the countertop and forcing him against it until he’s sitting, feet dangling off the floor.

“Lance, talk to me,” Keith begs, grabbing Lance’s shirt collar and forcing him to look at him. Lance sighs dully, blinking and averting his eyes from Keith’s gaze.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he admits softly, looking down at the countertop. He bends down to grab the first aid kit he keeps under the counter. He sets it next to Keith and opens it, pulling out a gauze pad and running it under the faucet.

He quickly cleans up and bandages Keith’s split, bloody knuckles, and Keith watches intently as he swipes away the dried blood, avoiding Lance’s eyes. He chucks that gauze and wets a new one.

“This is going to sting,” he warns, raising the gauze to Keith’s face. He gently dabs it over the cut on Keith’s lower lip, and Keith flinches as Lance wipes away the crusted up blood around his mouth.

“Christ, Keith, there’s dirt in this,” he scolds, pulling the cut open gently with his thumb to get a better look. He clicks his tongue, grabbing a Q-Tip from the jar on the counter and spritzing in with rubbing alcohol. Keith’s eyes widen.

“Lance, no-”

“Sorry, Squeaks. Don’t want it to get infected,” Lance replies, looking at him with genuine pity in his eyes. Keith squeezes his eyes shut, hands clutching at the edge of the bathroom counter. Lance coos at him softly as he pulls the cut open again and touches the alcohol-soaked Q-Tip to it. Keith flinches back, yelping, and shoves Lance away.

“Sorry, Squeaks. Sorry, sorry,” Lance says. Keith grabs his shirt to pull him in, resting his forehead against Lance’s chest with a whimper. Lance rubs his back. Even when he’s angry, Lance is a caregiver, and Keith fucking loves him.

“Here, hold onto me,” Lance says, lifting Keith’s face back up. He pulls Keith in close to his chest, encouraging Keith to wrap his arms around his back. He waits as Keith takes a few deep breaths and squeezes his eyes shut, then swipes the Q-Tip over the cut in his lip. He spreads it open again, looking around for any more visible dirt. When he’s sure there isn’t any, he drops the Q-Tip into the trash can and pats Keith’s hair.

“Good, you’re good,” he says, “don’t have to do that again.”

Keith sighs, letting Lance go and curling his legs up on the counter, watching as Lance pulls a suture strip from the first aid kit. He tips his head to let Lance put it in place.

“Doing great, Keith,” Lance says, and Keith flushes. Lance knows how scared he is of the doctor, and how much he hates getting cuts and wounds cleaned out, and it’s a little embarrassing to be coddled so much. But Lance obviously doesn’t mind; he turns his attention to the small cut and bruising on Keith’s cheek, running a damp cloth over it. He swipes a rubbing alcohol pad over the cut and Keith flinches again but, this time, it’s not so bad.

“Alrighty, lets look at that nose,” Lance says. Keith nods, raising his face to let Lance wipe off the dried blood. Lance moves his chin this way and that, examining his nose critically.

“Not super swollen, which is good, but it definitely looks broken. Wanna go to the hospital?” He asks. Keith’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, looking at Lance pleadingly. Lance nods. “Thought not. I’m just gonna set it myself, okay?”

Keith gulps, eyes trained on Lance’s focused face as Lance stabilizes his hands on Keith’s cheeks, pressing this thumbs to either side of Keith’s nose.

“Deep breath,” he says, just barely waiting for Keith to comply before snapping his nose back in place with a loud cracking sound. Keith cries out, more out of surprise than pain, but his eyes water nonetheless.

“Good, good,” Lance says, grabbing another cloth to wipe up some of the fresh blood dripping down. Keith brushes away some of the tears in his eyes and Lance chuckles at him.

“You’re doing great, Squeaks,” he says, checking over Keith’s face. One of his eyes is nearly swollen shut and his other one is ringed with heavy, black bags, but other than that, he looks okay. He thinks his job is done until Keith reaches up to scratch the back of his head and his hand comes back bloody.

“Oh, shit,” Keith says, staring down at his fingers, “Lance, I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, you are,” Lance replies, “turn around, let me see what’s up.”

Keith spins around on the bathroom counter, looking at himself in the mirror.

“Oh my God, Lance, I got fucked up,” he says, gingerly touching the bruising on his cheek and around his lips. Lance chuckles as he combs through Keith’s hair, cleaning up some of the blood on his scalp. With the dried blood gone, the scrape doesn’t look that bad, and it’s not swollen, so he decides it’s fine.

“Okay, Squeaks, we’re done,” he says, patting Keith’s thigh. He starts replacing things back into the first aid kit, sliding it back under the counter. Keith turns back around, blinking at him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, reaching out for Lance’s wrist. Lance looks up at him.

“I’m not mad.”

“Then why were you ignoring me earlier?”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Lance admits, averting his gaze, “I don’t know, Keith. I saw that guy slam your head against the wall and it scared me. You really gotta stop doing that.”

“You would’ve done it, too. I know you would’ve. Any of us would’ve done it for her,” Keith insists.

“I know. I know,” Lance replies, “but let me fight with you next time. Don’t make me watch you go through that shit again.”

“Sorry,” Keith whispers. Lance shakes his head, stroking his thumb over Keith’s bandaged knuckles.

Lance pulls Keith into his chest, holding him tightly and burying his face in Keith’s neck. Keith knots his hands into Lance’s t-shirt, tucking his face against him.

“I love you, Squeaks.”

“I love you, too, Lance.”

Lance pulls away, blinking down at Keith for just a moment before softly pressing their lips together. Keith smiles into it, wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck.

This isn’t the first time Lance and Keith have kissed. They used to do it a lot as kids, before they knew that kissing was something that adults do to show that they love each other. They don’t do it nearly as much anymore, now that they’re adults, but sometimes they do to solidify ‘I love you’s after arguments or to cheer each other up.

Lance pulls back, smiling, and softly knocks his forehead against Keith’s forehead. “You wanna cuddle, Squeaks?” he asks. Keith laughs, hopping off the counter and dragging Lance by the hand into his room. They curl up in Keith’s bed, Keith’s head resting on Lance’s chest, talking about nothing until they both fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo!! thanks for reading this second chapter of my bullshit!!! please comment i live for reading other peoples thoughts
> 
> also, if you have any ideas you'd like me to write, would like me to fulfill any requests, or anything like that, please let me know!!!! i'm working on creative writing portfolios and am trying to get more practice in, so i'm down to write almost anything!!
> 
> luv, eli


	3. 103 - Intro to Public Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slutty clothes, turkey dinners, and drunken hand-jobs from a friend

“Hey, fuckers!”

Keith looks up from his homework, which is sprawled out all over Lance’s dorm room floor. He watches as Pidge staggers through the door, handle of vodka in hand and Shiro and Matt in tow.

“What the fuck? Are you losers doing homework?” she yells, stumbling over to Keith. She yanks the notebook out of his hands and throws it onto Lance’s bed. Keith grabs the alcohol from her hand, setting it on the ground next to him. Then he takes her wrist and pulls her down onto his lap.

“Why are you drunk as fuck, Pidge?” Lance asks, turning around in his desk chair. Pidge chuckles, cuddling into Keith’s chest as Matt and Shiro make themselves comfortable on Lance’s bed.

“It’s Thanksgiving!”

“It’s actually definitely not, considering we’re American,” Lance replies, but he knows what she’s talking about. Because their school is so close to the Canadian border, and Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving early, school is cancelled for a long weekend. Everyone who’s not going home is getting incredibly drunk.

“Matt, Shiro, how could you let her get _this_ wasted already?” Keith asks, glaring at the third years as he rocks Pidge on his lap. Shiro just shrugs.

“She was already pregaming when she came to our room,” he says. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Okay, well, are we celebrating or what?” Lance asks, “I refuse to let Pidge get drunk without us.”

“I’m game,” Matt replies, “campus pub has a turkey dinner offer. We can sober Pidge up on too much food so all of us can get drunk together.”

“Good plan,” Shiro says, offering Matt a fist bump. Lance nods.

“Perfect, I’m game. One of you guys, call Allura. I’ll call Hunk. And all of us are wearing our Sunday best.”

There’s a hum of agreement across the room, and Shiro pulls out his phone to call Allura. Keith picks Pidge up, cuddling her to his chest as he walks into his room, Pidge giggling loudly all the while. He sets her down on his bed.

“Hey, Pidgey, what should I wear?” he asks, pulling open his drawers.

“Go naked!” Pidge yells, and Keith rolls his eyes.

“Absolutely not, babes. Not for free,” he quips. Pidge whistles at him and throws back another gulp of vodka, which she then extends to him.

“Drink!”

So he does. He takes a hearty swig from her bottle and coughs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Okay, okay, uh… I’m thinking… the jeans I wore when I slept with your brother, and…”

“You slept with my brother!” Pidge cries, cackling, “I forgot that! He fucked you in the ass!”

Keith laughs, taking another drink of vodka, and another.

“Keith, you should really whore yourself out tonight. Wear something super slutty,” she says, stumbling up from his bed and crashing into him, looking through his drawers. “A-hah!” She yells, picking up a tight, red long sleeve shirt of his and holding it out to him.

“That’s… not sexy,” he replies, frowning. He watches her quizzically as he takes another shot.

“I have an idea though,” she says, focused, “I need scissors. Can I cut this up?”

Keith shrugs. “Sure, bought it from WalMart. Go ahead.”

He hands her a pair of scissors, probably a bad idea given her state of intoxication, and leaves her to do her thing as he brushes his hair. He pulls it back into a little ponytail, deciding to go for a haircut soon- the emo fringe has become a full-on mullet, and he’s not about it.

“Voila!” Pidge yells, looking happily at the shirt in her lap. She holds it out to Keith. “Okay, put it on with your eyes closed!”

Keith shrugs, closing his eyes and maneuvering his way into the shirt, which is a lot more difficult than it should’ve been, considering the amount of newly added holes. Pidge yells at him to keep his eyes closed as she straightens the shirt out and tucks it into his jeans.

“Okay, open your eyes!”

Keith looks down at his outfit. The first thing he notices is that he’s incredibly pale. Next, he realizes just how much of his flesh is out.

Pidge cut the front of the shirt from the collar to the centre of his chest and used something- a shoelace?- to lace up the front, so the exposed part of his chest is criss-crossed with black thread. She wolf-whistles at him.

“Sexy Squeaks!” She screams, hopping up and down and clapping. Keith, emboldened by the alcohol and also completely willing to humour her, strikes a cute little pose and puckers his lips. She whistles again, wrapping her arms around him.

“Man eater!”

“Hell yeah I am,” Keith replies. He picks up the handle of vodka, taking another gulp and grabbing Pidge’s hand.

“Okay, we gotta get you changed, babe,” he says, tugging her out of the room and down the hall. Somehow, himself, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all wound up on the same floor, and Keith isn’t going to question the blessing, he’s just going to accept it.

He takes Pidge’s key out of her pocket, opening the door and pushing her in. She staggers over to her bed and he flops to her closet, pulling it open and looking through all of her clothes.

“Fucking hell, Pidge,” he mutters, “Why do you own so much shit? You wear the same four outfits.”

“Eat a dick.”

“Willingly,” Keith replies. He pulls out a black dress that looks much too small for any living organism to fit into, and holds it out to her.

“Ah! That one makes what slight ass I have look great!” She yells. She stumbles over to it, grabbing his arm to stabilize herself.

“Whoa, there,” he says, holding her around the ribs to keep her upright. “Am I gonna have to take your clothes off?”

“But Keith, we’re gay.”

“Can’t disagree. Okay, arms up,” he instructs, laying her dress down on the bed. Pidge dutifully raises her arms and Keith pulls her sweater up, silently thanking God for two things: one, that she’s wearing a bra, and two, that the bra will go with the dress he picked out, so he doesn’t have to change it for her. He drops her sweater to the floor and unbuttons her jeans, pushing them down her thighs so quickly she almost falls over.

“ _Keith!_ You ever heard of romance?” she asks, grabbing his shoulders to keep her upright. He avoids looking at her as much as possible and grabs the dress, unzipping the back and helping her step into it. She wiggles happily as he pulls the dress up and shoves her arms into the arm holes, zipping up the back.

“Are you gonna be cold?” he asks, looking her over. There’s a lot of exposed flesh and Pidge, being absolutely tiny, gets chilly easily. She shrugs.

“Uhhh…”

Keith nods, turning back to her closet and rifling through it. He pulls out a large, green flannel and slips it over her shoulders before stepping back to look her over.

“It’s a look?” she asks.

“It’s a look. Okay, what kind of shoes. Booties?”

“Keith, I knew you were gay, but I didn’t know you were Tan France!” Pidge yells. Keith rolls his eyes, pushing Pidge over to sit on the edge of her bed. He slides socks onto her feet and then crams them into a pair of black, heeled booties, which is a difficult task given the excited kicking of her legs. He finishes up with her boots and then kisses her knee lightly before standing back up.

“Wanna go find Allura?” He asks, pulling Pidge up. She nods happily, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. He grabs a little black backpack hanging on the door of her closet and slips it on over his shoulder so they have a bag before letting Pidge pull him though the door. She skips down the hallway, whistling happily as she pulls Keith along behind her.

“Allura!” she yells, rapping on her room door, “Allura, Allura, _Alluraaaaa!”_

“Hey! It’s open!” Allura calls. Keith pushes the door open, leading Pidge into the room where Allura is standing, putting on a pair of dangling opal earrings. She smiles warmly at them.

“Here to pick me up for Thanksgiving dinner?” She asks. Then she catches sight of Keith’s shirt, or what’s left of it. “Oh, looking super sexy, Keith! Going out to get some dick?”

“Oh, every night,” Keith giggles. Allura raises a perfectly manicured brow at him.

“Are you two drunk already?”

“Maybe…” Pidge replies, skipping across the room happily to wrap her arms around Allura. Allura pats her hair.

“Well, fuck, I gotta catch up,” she says, struggling to trudge across the room with Pidge still clinging to her. She pulls open a drawer under her bed and, when it’s open, Keith can see that she lined the translucent plastic front of it with wallpaper for a purpose: to hide the obscene amount of alcohol she has in there. She grabs a random bottle and spins the top off, taking a deep swig from it. She throws back probably three or four shots worth of the booze before breaking away from the bottle, coughing. Keith claps.

“Damn, you crazy bitch! You really went for it!” He cheers. Allura pumps her arms in the air.

“Okay, I’m gonna wear a really high pair of heels,” she declares, “and hopefully a hot boy will carry me home.”

“Carry you straight to bed, you mean,” Keith retorts, “you good to go? I think we’re getting an Uber.”

The girls both cheer, elbows linked as they follow Keith out of Allura’s dorm room, where they bump into Lance and Hunk in the hallway.

“Lance!” Keith yells, throwing his arms around Lance’s shoulders. Lance, in turn, loops his arms around Keith’s waist.

“Are all of you drunk?” He asks, “also, Keith, are you aware that your titties are out?”

“Yes, my titties are out and I am proud of them!”

Hunk nods, reaching across Lance to squeeze Keith’s chest. Keith grabs Hunk’s hand and presses it against him and throws his head back, gasping exaggeratedly.

“Okay, okay, stop orgasming,” Lance chuckles, holding Keith around the waist. He leans over, pressing his lips close to Keith’s ear. “How much did you drink?” he whispers.

“Not too much,” Keith replies, resting his head on Lance’s shoulder, “I’m fine. I wanna eat, mainly.”

Lance nods, clutching Keith tightly and leading the group out into the parking lot, where Matt and Shiro are already standing. Shiro flashes the screen of his phone to the group, showing them the Uber XL that’s arriving in less than a minute before falling into quiet conversation with Allura and Pidge, that latter of whom appears to be sleeping.

Keith blinks up at Hunk from his position on Lance’s shoulder and, for some reason, he looks anxious. Keith frowns at him, reaching out to take his hand. He tugs Hunk closer, moving away from Lance to rest against Hunk’s chest.

“I love you,” he whispers. Hunk chuckles.

“You’re hella drunk,” he replies, but he wraps his arms tightly around Keith nonetheless. There Keith stays, curled into Hunk’s warm chest as he chatters quietly to Lance about their physics class.

When the Uber pulls up, Hunk maneuvers him into it between him and Lance, and Keith immediately cuddles his head against Lance’s neck, holding Hunk’s massive hand in both of his.

“Where are you guys heading again?”

“5th and Church, the Garrison Pub,” Shiro replies from his spot in the driver’s seat. The driver nods, pulling away from the curb in front of the dorm building.

“We excited for some meat?” Matt asks, turning around from the middle row to look back.

“Heck yeah,” Keith replies, reaching out with a hand to grab Matt’s shoulder. Matt takes Keith’s free hand.

“How’ve you been?” He asks, stroking his thumb over Keith’s knuckles. Keith shrugs.

“Been pretty good. Tired and busy,” he replies. Matt nods.

“Dude, big mood. I’m literally thinking of just dropping out.”

“Quit eye fucking, you two,” Pidge grumbles, glaring at the two of them.

“Who said we were eye fucking?”

“Who said they were fucking at… Matt, _no,_ ” Shiro gasps, turning all the way around in his seat to stare at Matt in shock.

“Hmm?”

“The freshman you slept with? During O Week? It wasn’t…”

Matt gulps, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “It, uhh… it was?”

“You _slept…_ with my _brother?!_ ”

“Like, yeah, kinda…” Matt says, tipping his head down, not in shame but in amusement. He covers his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud.

“Well hey, hey, Shiro, when you thought you were straight you slept with Lance’s babysitter,” Keith says accusatorially. Shiro and Allura both flush bright red as Lance gasps.

“Shiro and Allura fucked?” Lance yelps, “oh my _God!_ Lur, was your pussy game so weak you turned him gay?”

“ _Lance!_ ” Allura cries, flipping around so fast she almost knocks Pidge over. Lance wraps his arm around his stomach and laughs so loudly he nearly cries.

At this point, the Uber driver is both done with the lot of them and pulling up to the destination, where the seven of them pile out onto the sidewalk in front of the campus pub. Keith already feels sobered up, as do Pidge and Allura, and all of them are ravenous. They pile into the pub, which is surprisingly empty, and pick a booth at the back of the room. Lance orders them a round, which he proudly carries back to the booth on a round tray

“To family, friends, and being alive,” he say after passing the drinks around, raising his glass in the air. The rest of them echo his statement, lifting and clinking their own glasses.

After they’ve eaten far too much food, drank a little too much, and laughed obnoxiously in the otherwise silent pub, they all pile out onto the street. The drunken crew staggers down the sidewalk, clinging to each other and laughing all the while as Matt leads the way to his favourite bar.

“Okay, okay, dumbasses,” Shiro calls from the front of the pack, “we won’t get in unless we look a little bit sober. You guys all need to fucking chill out.”

“Hey, hey, Takashi, I have a secret,” Allura whisper-yells at him, hanging off Hunk’s arm, “Takashi, Takashi, hey… shut the hell up.”

“Ooh, burn!” Keith yells. Shiro turns around, sticking his tongue out, and Keith cracks up. He spins himself under Lance’s arm, dancing across the rain-slicked sidewalk and swinging their joined hands between them. Lance tugs him in against his side.

“Squeaks, you’re crazy when you’re drunk,” he chuckles, throwing his arm over Keith’s shoulders. Keith giggles.

“You need to be drunker,” he declares, rubbing his nose against Lance’s cheek. “We’re gonna get you mega drunk, and we’re gonna _dance!_ ”

“Whatever you say, Squeaks.”

“Okay, crew, IDs out!” Shiro calls from the front of the pack, “we’re approaching our destination on the right!”

There’s a smattering of whispers and giggles as the drunken crew gathers their IDs, the majority of them fake. They manage to get into the bar without any problems, aside from a few annoyed glances in response to their drunken antics.

“Okay, shots!” Pidge yells from her place atop Matt’s back. Everyone but Shiro cheers - Shiro just holds the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Pidge hops off Matt’s back to order a round of the bar’s “cheapest, strongest booze,” which she lines up alone the bar top.

“To family!” She cries.

“To friends!” Hunk adds.

“And to fucking being alive!” Keith finishes, raising his glass in the air. They all throw back their booze in unison, coming back up coughing and sputtering.

“Jesus _Christ,_ Pidge, did you order rubbing alcohol?” Lance cries, slamming his glass back down on the table.

“Got what’s cheapest, I’on’t have a job yet,” she replies, shrugging. Lance shrugs too.

“Fair enough,” he replies. He then passes a ten dollar bill to the bartender. “Will that cover a few more rounds?”

“Cover two shots,” the bartender replies, setting a nicely manicured hand over the money on the bar.

“Oh, damn,” Lance replies, setting down another twenty. “That’s six shots, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, uhhh… gimme six shots of your favourite flavoured vodka, three for each of us,” he says, gesturing between himself and Keith. The bartender nods, sliding the money into her apron and turning to the shelves of liquor behind her.

“I’ll pay you back,” Keith replies, leaning his head on Lance’s shoulder.

“Nah, don’t,” Lance replies, “take the next round and we’ll call it even.”

Keith pulls back, smiling broadly at Lance until Lance looks back, rolling his eyes and cracking his own smile.

While they’re smiling at each other, the bartender sets six shots on the table, three in a row in front of each of them.

“There you go,” she says, breaking them out of their staring contest. “Six shots of raspberry vodka mixed with lemon vodka, my favourite.”

“Thank you!” Keith replies, picking up one of the glasses and gesturing towards her. She nods at him, smirking.

“Okay, Squeaks,” Lance says, holding his glass out to him, “bottoms up!”

They clink their glasses and throw the shots back.

“Whoo! That was great!” Lance cries as he sets the empty glass down. “Thanks so much!”

“No problem, man,” the bartender replies, reaching across the table to grab their empty glasses. They both take the second shot in unison, and the third, and Keith slumps over the bar top.

“That was _delicious._ What the hell. It tasted like gelato. Lance, tell her it tasted like gelato,” he slurs, poking Lance’s ribcage.

“It was delicious.”

“I’ve never had a shot that was delicious before. You’re a witch,” he continues, raising his head to glare suspiciously. She just laughs, throwing her head back.

“You guys are trouble,” she quips before wiping her hands on a towel and heading down the bar to help other customers.

“Hey, Squeaks, I’m gonna head over to Allura,” Lance says, poking Keith to get his attention. “Wanna pick up an A.M.F. for me?”

Keith nods, smiling up at Lance happily and watching Lance’s back as he walks away.

“Hey, ponytail,” the bartender says, snapping her hand towel against the countertop, “I like your shirt. Your face, too.”

Keith perks up, smiling broadly. “Thanks! I like penis!”

The bartender slaps a hand to her mouth to contain her laughter, blinking at Keith in shock. “Wow! Okay! Sorry!”

“You shot your shot,” Keith replies, leaning across the bar and taking her hands, “and you are so, so beautiful. You are going to find a person who is completely in love with vagina and they’re going to be so into you. I love you.”

“Do I have to cut you off?” She asks sarcastically, smiling brightly at him.

“Nooooo,” Keith whines. She takes a hand from his and pats his hair.

“Wanna order something else?”

“Yes! Two… A.M.F.s… please?”

“Two A.M.F.s?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, coming right up,” she says, turning around,

“Wait!” Keith cries, and she spins back on her heel to face him. “Show me your name tag.”

She laughs, holding her name tag out to him. “It’s Shay.”

“Shay! Pretty name!”

“Thank you, Keith?” she replies, saying his name quizzically. He nods eagerly at her, resting his chin on his hand and watching as she turns around to gather alcohol. She turns back to him and, upon seeing his fascination, takes him through the steps of making the drink. He watches the whole time, hand propped on his palm as he keeps a close eye on her careful work.

“Hey, pretty Shay?” he asks as she starts on the second drink. She looks up, smiling. “What do you think of big, cuddly, dark-skinned boys who can cook and have anxiety?”

“Uh… sounds good to me?” She replies, looking at him with partial amusement and partial confusion. Keith nods seriously.

“Okay, okay. Carry on.”

Shay giggles at him, turning her attention back to the drink. Keith watches the careful movements of her hands until she pushes the glasses over to him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she says.

Keith grins warmly, pulling twenty dollars out of his pocket. “I think that’s enough?”

“Oh, it’s more than enough,” Shay says, “I’ll get you some change.”

“Nope. Keep the change, pretty Shay.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, hesitantly picking up the bill. Keith nods, grabbing the drinks.

“Absolutely certain. See you later, pretty Shay. I’m not drunk enough.”

“You will be, after that A.M.F.”

“Oh, definitely,” Keith replies, “still gonna see you later, though!”

Shay gives him a little wave as he hops off his stool, sauntering across the bar.

“Lance! Order up!” He calls as he approaches the table he’s sitting at, leaning heavily on Allura’s shoulder as she massages her fingers through his hair. He sits up as Keith approaches, shuffling into the booth to give him room to sit.

“Hey, Keithy,” Allura says, reaching across Lance to squeeze Keith’s arm.

“Hey, Lur!” Keith replies, beaming at her.

“I’ve missed you so much, kid,” she says, “we’ve hardly seen each other since school started. We really gotta catch up more.”

“Yes! When you have free time, call me!” Keith cries, clutching her hand. She smiles.

“I will, I promise. You too, Beans.”

Lance snorts at the nickname but doesn’t otherwise respond, mouth full of alcohol, which reminds Keith that he has a drink in front of him. He picks up his glass, filled with bright blue liquid, and takes a cautious sip.

His first thought is ‘Christ, that’s strong,’ closely followed by, ‘that’s amazing.’

He goes to tilt the glass up and chug when Lance, seemly predicting what he’s going to do, grabs his wrist.

“You’re gonna wanna go slow on that, Squeaks,” he warms, pulling Keith’s hand back down to the table. Keith smiles sheepishly, releasing the glass.

“Where’s the others?” He asks, looking around and Matt, Shiro, and Allura. Pidge and Hunk are nowhere to be found. Allura shrugs.

“Pidge and Hunk are out dancing,” Matt replies, swirling his beer bottle in his hand. Shiro grabs the bottle from him and takes a sip before setting it on the table between them, and Keith can’t tell if it’s his imagination making him believe that the two are sitting especially close together or not.

He shrugs the thought off.

“So, other than O Week, I assume this is both of your first times getting super drunk with a group of college friends, yeah?” Shiro asks, looking at Keith and Lance with a raised eyebrow. Keith nods dutifully.

“Yes, dad.”

“For real, though, you guys are taking school seriously, right?”

“But not too seriously,” Matt interjects, “that’s how you burn out.”

“I am getting so many mixed messages right now,” Lance says, and Keith nods in agreement, taking another sip of his drink.

Allura chuckles softly, seemingly sobered up a little after sitting at the adults table with Matt and Shiro. “We mean it, guys. It’s a fun year, so enjoy it, but don’t go off the rails.”

“We won’t,” Lance promises sincerely, grabbing her hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “And we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“Good,” Shiro says, “watch out for each other.”

And, again, Keith can’t tell if he’s imagining the sad glance Matt sends Shiro’s direction, can’t tell if he’s imagining that Matt moves closer by a fraction of an inch.

He finishes his drink, looks over to see Lance doing the same.

“Well, in the spirit of having a good fucking time,” he says, sliding out of the booth and grabbing Lance’s hand, “Lance and I are gonna go dance.”

“Have fun, boys,” Allura chuckles, offering them a small wave. Keith beams at her over his shoulder as he pulls Lance towards the crowded dance floor. Once there, he immediately zeroes in on Pidge and Hunk and beelines straight for them.

“Hunk, hey, hey,” he says, patting Hunk’s chest, “before we leave, go hit on pretty Shay, the bartender. I think she’s your type.”

“My type?” Hunk replies, chuckling.

“Sweet, good at making drinks, funny, dark skin with short hair and blunt bangs. I think you two would be into each other,” Keith promises before sliding in between Hunk and Pidge, taking Pidge’s hands and spinning her away. He cuddles her close to his chest, slow dancing despite the upbeat tempo of the song.

“Was’up, Keithy?” she slurs against his chest.

“Not a lot,” he replies, “I’m drunk.”

“Oh, same,” she replies, swaying in Keith’s arms, entirely off beat. “Haven’t thrown up yet, though!”

“That’s a win, at least,” Keith replies. He feels a little drunk, but not quite as gone as he did while he was pregaming; happy and free, but not super wild.

He enjoys it.

“Pidgie, I’m gonna steal Squeaks from you,” Lance says, sliding his arm in between Keith and Pidge. He spins Keith up in him arms, holding him close, as Pidge stumbles back to Hunk.

“Ah! Dancey Lancey!” Keith cries, happily grabbing both of Lance’s hands to sway them. Lance snorts.

“Never say that again, oh my God.”

“Too late, already said it.”

Lance rolls his eyes, spinning Keith under his arm, a Herculean task given the cramped dance floor. He pulls Keith back in against him, moving with a natural rhythm that Keith couldn’t hope to have. Chuckling, Lance sets his hands on Keith’s hips.

“Like this, Squeaks. Sway,” he instructs, moving Keith’s body in time with his own. Keith beams, willingly letting Lance sway him as he raises his arms over his head. He reaches behind his head to pull out his hair elastic, shaking out his now free hair. Lance spins him around, pressing his chest up against Keith’s back, hands still firmly planted on his hips. Keith cheekily rocks back against him and Lance snorts.

“Christ, Keith, hop off my dick, would ya?” he quips, still swaying to the beat of the music. Keith just laughs, shrugging, and reaches up and behind himself to set his hand on the back of Lance’s neck. He drops his head back to rest it against Lance’s shoulder.

“You two look like you’re about to go home and fuck,” Hunk jokes as he walks past.

“Who says we aren’t?” Lance quips back cheekily. Hunk whoops sarcastically.

“Oh, yes, get some, boys!” He cries as he walks off, all but carrying Pidge along with him. Lance chuckles, removing Keith’s hand from the back of his neck and spinning him away.

“You’re really getting into the swing of this,” he says, pulling Keith back against him and replacing his grip on Keith’s hips. He moves quicker now, adding in some basic steps, and Keith looks down at their feet with immense concentration. He gives up on trying to learn the steps, instead looping his arms around Lance’s neck and trusting Lance to dance for him, laughing every time he screws up. Lance laughs with him.

After twenty minutes of sloppy, drunken dancing, Lance gently drags Keith from the dance floor over to the adult table, where the rest of the crew is. Allura is sitting between Hunk and Pidge, arms wrapped around each of them. Opposite from them, Shiro is leaning heavily on Matt’s shoulder, seemingly asleep.

“You guys look destroyed,” Lance says, leaning his palms on the table and leaning over it.

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna call it a night,” Allura says, stroking her fingers through Pidge’s hair.

“What? But it’s only-” Lance checks his watch, “oh, never mind, it’s two a.m.”

“Yup. You wanna head out with us?”

Lance looks at Keith, who shrugs. He leans his head on his shoulder, whispering, “wanna go back to the dorms and hang out? I have booze.”

“Booze? Yes, absolutely.”

“Okay,” Lance replies, lifting his head from Keith’s shoulder, “wake Shiro up, we should head out.”

The table starts clambering to their feet, Lance and Keith leading the way out while Allura trails slightly behind, ordering their Uber. Keith waves goodbye to Shay, yelling across the bar that he promises to come back, causing her to giggle. They loiter in front of the bar, leaning against the wall and talking softly as they wait, their drunken energy giving way to sleepiness. They pile into the Uber quietly, Hunk taking the front seat so that Shiro can slumber on Matt’s shoulder. Pidge throws her legs over Keith’s lap in the back seat of the car as she scrolls through her phone, blinking tiredly.

They reach their dorm building in a matter of minutes, the roads calm in the two a.m. darkness, and the seven of them climb out, tiredly thanking the driver. They clamber into the building, all of them clustering into a group hug and muttering a series of ‘good night’s, before staggering off in their separate directions. Lance loops his arm around Keith’s ribcage, under his armpits, and the two of them stumble up to room 198. Lance, being smart enough to remember his keys, unlocks the door and beeps them into his room.

“Squeaks, whipped cream vodka?” he asks, dumping Keith’s limp body on the bed and turning around to rifle through his drawers. Keith whoops, and Lance turns around to hand him a bottle. Keith takes a long swig and passes it back over so Lance can do the same thing.

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna teach you to dance,” Lance says, setting the bottle on his desk and picking up his phone. He shuffles a playlist.

“No way, is this that shitty Musical.ly song?” Keith asks, allowing Lance to take his hands and pull him up.

“TRNDSTTR is a fucking bop and we both know it,” Lance retorts, sliding his hands around Keith’s lower back. He pulls him close, swaying their bodies. “Jesus Christ, it’s like dancing with Jello.”

“What can I say, I’m a floppy lad.”

Lance snorts. “I hate that you just said that.”

“You love me so much.”

“Yeah. I do,” Lance admits, smiling softly.

“And _I_ love _you_ so much!” Keith continues happily, shaking his hips. Lance rolls his eyes. He holds Keith’s hips in his hands, moving them with purpose, and Keith throws his head back, giving Lance free rein over his movements.

“You’d be a really great dancer if you weren’t so horrifyingly uncoordinated,” Lance says, chuckling as Keith stumbles.

“Was that even a compliment?”

“Kind of.”

Lance slides his hands down Keith’s arms, holding Keith’s hands in his. He spins Keith around under his arm and then curls him back around against his chest. He spins Keith back out and holds him like they’re about to tango, He moves his own hips quickly as Keith watches, sloppily trying to emulate Lance’s movements with minimal success, laughing all the while.

“God, Squeaks, you’re awful,” Lance giggles, smiling warmly at him. Keith smiles back, wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck. He bumps their foreheads together.

Lance leans his face in, their lips nearly touching, and Keith moves in the rest of the way.

They’ve kissed before, multiple times. But it feels a little different this time.

Lance’s hips cease their movements, Keith tightens his grip around Lance’s neck, carding his fingers through Lance’s short, soft hair. One of Lance’s hands slides up Keith’s back, coming to rest just under his ribcage, the other one lingering on the small of his back.

It’s different this time, isn’t it?

Lance trails his tongue gently over Keith’s lower lip and Keith’s mouth falls open, giving him access. He slips his tongue between Keith’s lips, sliding it over Keith’s.

Before he can stop himself, Keith lets out a low moan.

Lance’s heart stops.

He backs Keith up against the wall, pressing him up against it and kissing him forcefully, running his tongue across the roof of Keith’s mouth just to feel him tremble against his chest. He slips his knee between Keith’s thighs, pressing it up against Keith’s crotch, and Keith whines softly, gripping at the back of Lance’s shirt. His knees shake, barely able to hold himself up, and he grabs Lance’s shoulder to pull him down as he sinks to the floor. Lance perches between Keith’s knees, pressing up against him and kissing him forcefully. Keith nips at Lance’s lower lip, pressing up against him and pulling him closer.

“Okay? Is this okay?” Lance asks breathlessly into Keith’s mouth. Keith just tightens his grip around Lance’s neck, pulling him even closer in answer. He pushes up off the wall, forcing Lance backwards onto the floor and straddling his hips. He presses his chest flush to Lance’s, cupping Lance’s chin in both hands as Lance’s hands slide up his back, under his shirt.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Lance whispers against Keith’s lips, dragging his fingers across Keith’s pale skin. Keith shivers, pulling away. He takes Lance by the shoulders and pulls him up, grabbing the hem of Lance’s shirt and yanking it over his head before shoving him back down to the carpet. He trails his fingers across Lance’s collar, following their movement with his lips. He sucks a patch of Lance’s skin between his teeth, nipping at the skin until it’s warm before popping off with a pleased grin, smirking down at the darkened mark on Lance’s skin.

Lance groans, grabbing Keith by the hips and flipping them, pressing Keith’s back to the floor. He grips Keith’s thighs, hitching them up around his back. He drops his hips to rock them against Keith’s, who cries out softly and grips Lance around the neck, forcing their lips together. Lance’s fingers flex around Keith’s thighs, digging his fingers into Keith’s flesh, causing Keith to hiss and buck up.

“Lance,” he breathes, “Lance, Lance, _Lance._ ” He drags his nails down Lance’s back, digging them into his skin.

“More?” Lance groans into Keith’s mouth, sliding one hand up Keith’s thigh and across his stomach.

“ _Yes._ ”

Without hesitating for even a second, he flips open the button of Keith’s jeans and pulling his zipper down. He slides both hands into Keith’s jeans, pulling them down Keith’s thighs and off his legs entirely, chucking them somewhere across the room. He also pushes Keith’s shirt up his stomach but doesn’t go through the entire process of removing it, so it stays on.

“What do you want?” he whispers against Keith’s skin, kissing his neck. Keith shivers.

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“ _Fuck,_ Lance!” Keith cries out, grabbing Lance’s hand. He presses it against his cock, straining through his underwear, and curves Lance’s hand around it. Lance gasps, obviously not expecting the forwardness, and hooks his fingers in the band of Keith’s boxers. He pulls them partially down his thighs, letting his cock spring up. Slowly, he touches his hand to the base of Keith’s length, lightly dragging his fingers over his skin.

Keith throws his head back against the carpet, gasping, and Lance blinks up at him.

And, Christ, it should be illegal to be that attractive.

He unzips his own jeans with his free hand, shoving them and his boxers partially down his thighs to free his dick. Then he lines himself up with Keith, wrapping his hand around both of their lengths, their hot flesh pressed together. Keith’s eyes fly open, blinking up at Lance in shock. Shakily, he brings his own hand up, wrapping it around what Lance’s hand couldn’t fit, letting Lance guide the quickening pace of their hands. Keith’s thighs twitch, his head falling back as he lets out a devilish moan, and Lance doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able last if Keith keeps… _looking_ like this.

He slides his thumb over Keith’s slit and Keith convulses, crying out. His free hand hooks around Lance’s neck, pulling his face down to kiss him firmly. Lance strokes over their cocks even faster, tightening his grip, and Keith is twitching and whining even more, and Lance hopes that Keith is getting close because _he_ definitely is.

“Keith, Keith, c’mon,” he moans into Keith’s mouth, “come on.”

He strokes over their hot flesh, Keith’s hand going limp and leaving Lance to do the majority of the work, not that he minds.

“ _Lance._ ”

“Come _on,_ Keith. Jesus Christ,” he grunts, pressure in his stomach reaching a fever pitch, but it’s not in his nature to come first.

Keith’s nails dig into Lance’s back, dragging across his skin as Lance tightens his grip even more, forcing the tips of their cocks together. Keith cries out as Lance groans loudly.

“Keith, Keith, _please,_ ” he moans, “come. Come for me.”

Keith drops his hands from Lance’s back to scrabble at the short, dense carpet, throwing his head back as he comes, moaning breathlessly. Watching Keith’s orgasm is more than enough to trigger his own; Lance comes across Keith’s stomach in thick spurts. He continues to stroke through their orgasms, slowing with each passing millisecond.

Once they’re both spent, Lance releases their cocks, wiping his hand on the exposed portion of his boxers. Keith seemingly turns to Jello, going entirely limp on the floor, leaving Lance to do all the cleanup. He grabs a tissue from his desk, wiping down Keith’s stomach and, for good measure, his own hand again. Then he pulls Keith’s underwear back up and kicks off his own jeans.

“C’mon, Keith, get up. Let’s go to bed,” he says. Keith groans in disagreement, so Lance wraps his arms around his ribcage to lift him. He shuffles over to his bed, dropping Keith unceremoniously on it. He grabs the throw blanket at the end, covering Keith with it before padding across his room to turn the light off. Then he crawls into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist.

“It’s not weird, is it?” Keith whispers into the space between them.

“No, Keith, it’s not weird,” Lance responds, knocking their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

“Hey,” Pidge says, leaning against the wall of Hunk’s dorm room, legs sprawled out across his bed. She’s cradling a bottle of rum between her thighs. “Bet you five dollars that Lance and Keith fucked tonight.”

“Not gonna take that bet,” Hunk replies, “ain’t trying to lose five dollars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey dudes!!!! If you read this, please comment bc your thoughts are keeping me afloat yeeeeee. anyway ill see u next time i return from the trash heap


	4. 104 - Intro to Being Friends-with-Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings after, touching boys, and Shiro’s dead ex-boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know how sometimes you're allowed to open one christmas present on christmas eve? yeah this is that one present, so keep your eyes peeled for new work from me tomorrow!!

“Wow, surprised to see you up this early.”

Lance looks up from his textbook, spread out on the dining hall table in front of him, to see Hunk sitting across from him, setting down a plate stacked high with breakfast.

“I could say the same of you,” he quips, reaching across the table to swipe one of Hunk’s breakfast sausages, too lazy to get his own.

“Eh, I didn’t drink that much,” Hunk replies, “it makes my drugs work weirdly.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like, I think I get drunker faster? So I don’t really drink as much? Also I just feel weird sometimes and my psychiatrist tells me that it can fuck me up? She says I can drink, but I shouldn’t drink too much. So I’m pretty fine.”

Lance nods, shrugging as he takes in the information. “Aye, good to know.”

“Yup.”

“Not trying to get deep on you, but I really appreciate you telling me stuff like that. You don’t gotta be scared to tell me about your problems and things,” Lance says, looking earnestly at Hunk, who flushes and turns his face down to his food.

For as kind and caring as Hunk is, he completely hates being cared for. He gets really awkward when people show him affection. Lance takes one of his huge hands.

“Thanks,” Hunk mumbles towards the table. Lance squeezes his hand and lets go.

“Welp, now things are awkward!” He says cheerfully, cracking a bright smile and turning back to his work. Hunk looks back up, rolling his eyes and digging into his food.

“So,” he says, distorted around his mouthful of french toast, “did you and Keith screw last night?”

Lance nearly chokes.

He coughs loudly, smacking his chest with the flat of his hand, and stares up at Hunk incredulously with his eyes bugging out.

“Hunk, _what the fuck?”_ he wheezes. Hunk snorts.

“Did you and Keith screw? Boink? Copulate? Fool around? Make love? Fornicate-”

“Okay, okay, I _get_ it,” Lance chokes out, still looking at Hunk with wide eyes. “What makes you think Keith and I would fuck?”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that your dick was pretty much already in his ass on the dance floor last night?” Hunk suggests, shrugging. Lance chokes again.

“We were drunk! And Keith and I have always been like that,” he says feebly, knowing that, somehow, Hunk was onto him.

Hunk stares at him flatly. “You’ve always been close, yeah, but that was way different. You two looked like a couple.”

“We didn’t fuck.”

Hunk looks genuinely surprised. “You didn’t?”

“We didn’t fuck…” Lance repeats, but his voice wavers, giving him away. Hunk gasps.

“You fucked!”

“We didn’t fuck!” Lance yells, far too loudly for the dining hall. He claps a hand over his mouth as Hunk laughs at him.

“Okay, okay, you didn’t fuck, but did you at least exchange orgasms?”

Lance coughs, looking to the side.

“Maybe,” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth. Hunk raises an eyebrow.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Maybe…”

“Huh? Pardon me?”

“Fine! Yes! We exchanged orgasms! I wrapped my hand around his dick and made him come and it was mind-blowing! Is that what you wanted, Hunk? Huh? Is it?” Lance cries, softer this time, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Hunk loses it, slapping his hand on the table and cackling. Lance buries his face in his hands, hiding his own laughter.

“Oh my god!” Hunk yells. Lance peeks at him between his fingers, glaring half-heartedly and waiting for him to chill out.

“Are you done now?” He asks as Hunk starts winding down, giggling into his hand. Hunk smiles.

“Yup. But fuck you, you lost me five dollars.”

“What?” Lance asks, confused, before he puts the puzzle together. “Did you and Pidge make a bet on Keith and my sex life?”

“Yup!”

“And, what, you bet we’d fuck and we didn’t?”

“No! Pidge bet you’d fuck and I didn’t take it but I should’ve. I could’ve gotten five dollars!”

“Well, technically we fucked.”

“You did?” Hunk yelps, leaning across the table. Lance shrugs.

“He and I did sexual stuff. Technically sex.”

“K, but like, it wasn’t _sex_ sex.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “That’s problematic. Sex doesn’t necessarily mean penetration.”

“Pidge and I were talking about dick in ass sex,” Hunk clarifies, rolling his eyes in amusement. Lance’s deadpan, serious face starts to crack.

“I’m going to go tell every lesbian I know that you don’t think their sex is real because there’s no dick involved,” he taunts, glaring sarcastically. Hunk smiles.

“I’m joshing you,” Hunk admits, “you technically had sex, but not the kind that would’ve gotten me five dollars.”

Lance drops his head to the table and groans as Hunk continues to chuckle at him.

 

Keith is studying in his dorm, feet propped up on his desk, and flipping through _1984,_ analyzing a a passage and underlying some random lines that he could twist around into something deep. Lance comes crashing through the doorway.

“Squeaks!” He cries, staggering into the room, “what we did last night wasn’t weird, was it? Like, it didn’t screw us up?”

Keith looks up from his book in shock, blinking. “Uh, no? Things happen, Lance.”

Lance breathes a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping.

“Good,” he says, “because I am rock hard! Let’s get it on!”

Keith barks out a laugh, putting his book down as Lance reaches out for his hands and pulls him up against his chest. He brushes he fingers through Keith’s hair, tucking a lock of it behind his ear, and presses their lips together.

 

“Long time, no see,” Pidge says, plopping down heavily next to Keith and throwing her legs over his lap. He sets his hands on her calves, resisting the urge to tug at her shoelaces.

“I saw you this weekend, nerd,” Keith retorts, raising his eyebrows. Pidge shrugs.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there,” she replies, “now let’s get to the important shit. Did you and Lance bang?”

Keith chokes on his sip of coffee, forcing some of it up into his sinuses and coughing, blowing his nose into the crook of his arm.

“What the _fuck,_ Katherine?”

Pidge just cocks her head, staring at him expectantly and he rubs his nose and coughs again.

“Well?”

“No, Lance and I didn’t bang,” he replies, incredulously watching her, “what the hell was that even about?”

“You and Lance were really getting it on on the dance floor last Friday, thought maybe there was something there,” she admits, leaning away to flip through her backpack. Keith slumps back against his seat, running his hand through his hair and huffing out a breath.

“We didn’t fuck,” he says to the air in front of him, not looking directly at Pidge. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her perk up, brows raised expectantly. He sighs again, closing his eyes.

“We didn’t fuck,” he repeats, “but we did do… something.”

Pidge squeals, grabbing Keith’s hands and pulling him in her direction. “Keith, what the hell? Is this like, a _thing_ thing?”

“Stop it, your fangirl is coming through,” he replies flatly, “and not, it’s not a thing. We’re best friends and we were drunk.”

What he doesn’t mention is that, last night, they were sober.

Pidge rolls her eyes, smiling softly and lightly scratching his wrist. “Sorry, sorry, just got excited. There hasn’t been any good new tea lately so I’m kinda running on fumes now.”

“Well, I slept with your brother?” Keith replies, shrugging. Pidge gags.

“Stop, don’t remind me.”

“That’s great tea! Your brother put his dick in my butt and moved it around!”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“And he came in my ass-”

“ _Keith!_ ”

 

Keith hates public transportation.

He’s busing back from a dentist appointment, getting pushed around in a cramped, sweaty, glorified tin can, taking multiple elbows to the ribs, and he’s fed up. Eventually, he gives up, stumbling off the bus a few stops early and opting to walk in the brisk, early October air, getting angrier and angrier by the minute for seemingly no reason.

He feels like there’s fire under his skin, building with every step he takes. His body feels like it’s buzzing, a walking hornets’ nest.

He’s stressed, he’s tired, and getting jostled about on the bus was truly the last straw for him.

He slams his way into his dorm and, too irritated to punch in Lance’s room code, raps on his door furiously until he pulls the door open.

“Kei-”

Keith doesn’t give Lance even a millisecond to get the rest of the word out before he’s grabbing him by his shirt collar and yanking him close, shoving their lips together furiously. Lance’s hands come up around his back and he lets Keith kiss him with bruising force, pushing him back further into the room and kicking the door shut. He turns them around, stumbling over his feet and dragging Lance back towards his bed until the backs of his legs hit the edge of it and he falls, Lance coming down with him. Lance catches himself with a hand next to Keith’s head and he pulls away, setting his free hand on Keith’s chest to keep him from giving chase.

“You good?” He asks, watching Keith inquisitively. His lips are already bruised and swollen from Keith’s punishing force. Keith huffs out air through his teeth.

“I’m furious,” he growls, grabbing the back of Lance’s neck, “ _screw me._ ”

Lance blinks in surprise, pulling back even further. “Whoa there, buckaroo. Slow down. What’s up?”

“Long ass day. Now come _on,_ Lance!”

Lance rolls his eyes, dropping back down to press his lips to Keith’s softly. Keith growls, squirming like a caged animal and attempting to nip at Lance’s lips.

“Long day?” Lance whispers, sliding his lips across Keith’s cheek towards his ear. Keith clenches his teeth, tensing under Lance’s touch as he drags his hand up Keith’s side slowly under his shirt.

“Looking to blow off some steam?” Lance continues, taking Keith’s earlobe between his lips and tugging gently. Then he curves his tongue around the back of Keith’s ear and Keith twitches, breath puffing out of his lungs. Lance trails his hand along Keith’s chest.

“Lance,” Keith mutters, grabbing his hip as a last-ditch attempt to regain control of the situation. Lance just hums against Keith’s skin, trailing his lips down Keith’s throat and stopping every few seconds to nip at his skin. He continues down Keith’s body, shoving Keith’s shirt up his chest, andKeith arches his back and wiggles the rest of the way out of it by himself. Lance bites and sucks at Keith’s chest as he continues downward. He stops over Keith’s nipple and gives it a light, experimental bite, and his bedsheets audibly protest against the force of Keith’s hands digging into them.

“ _Lance!_ ”

Perfect, just the reaction he was hoping for. He drags his tongue flatly over Keith’s nipple and pulls back to blow cool air over it and Keith twitches and spasms.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” he hisses, hips rolling up against Lance. “Hurry up!”

Momentarily, Lance debates teasing him, seeing how slow he can go and how much he can play around before Keith loses his temper. But Keith is already writhing and shaking, breath rumbling out of his chest in a continuous low growl, so Lance decides not to push him. He moves back up Keith’s body, sliding their lips together and holding himself up with one hand. His free hand trails lightly down Keith’s chest, fingertips barely touching his skin, and he hooks his fingers in the band of Keith’s sweats.

“Mmm, unwashed sweatpants,” he whispers into Keith’s mouth, taking the piss out of him. “You really know how to get a guy going, don’t ya, Squeaks?”

Keith bites Lance’s lower lip. Hard.

“Oof.”

“Douche.”

“I wouldn’t say that to the guy who’s about to go down on you,” Lance says, jokingly threatening. Keith immediately quiets, blinking at Lance with hooded eyes and, for a moment, they just stare at each other.

Lance wonders if he crossed a line.

He’s about to retract his statement and attempt to laugh it off when, all at once, Keith wraps his legs around Lance’s hips and cups Lance’s face in both hands, forcing their lips together again. He pulls his body up to Lance’s, back completely off the bed, and Lance wraps an arm around his ribcage to hold him there. Keith takes Lance’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently, and Lance presses him back down against mattress. He sits up on his knees, looking down at Keith for just a moment before he grabs his sweatpants, pulling them down his thighs, lifting his legs to yank them off. He catches one of Keith’s ankles and hooks it over his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to the joint. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t know you had a foot fetish,” he taunts. Lance’s eyebrows raise.

“This is clearly an ankle, fool,” he replies, not giving Keith another chance to speak as he yanks on his ankle, dragging him across the bed so his abdomen is on Lance’s lap, ass pressed to Lance’s crotch. He maneuvers Keith leg back down from his shoulder, lest he pull a muscle, and Keith curls his leg around Lance’s back, pulling him in closer. He slides his hands up Lance’s sides, fingers trailing over the slight indents of his ribcage, Lance’s shirt bunching up over his wrists, and Lance grabs his shirt at the back of his neck and pulls it over his head. Keith drags his fingers down Lance’s chest as he throws the shirt across the room.

“Alright,” Lance says, leaning down over Keith. He presses his lips to Keith’s neck, just under his ear. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Keith tips his head back, offering Lance better access to his throat. “Just… _fuck_ me.”

Lance huffs out a laugh through his nose, pulling back to raise and eyebrow. “You’re really going pedal to the metal, Squeaks.”

“Fuck yourself, Lance.”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you, though?”

Keith growls through his teeth, glaring, and digs his nails into Lance’s hips.

“Asshole.”

Lance smirks cheekily, trailing his fingers across Keith’s stomach.

“What was that?” He asks, leaning down over him. He kisses the junction between Keith’s neck and shoulder and lightly sinks his teeth into the muscle, and Keith’s back tenses.

“You’re the worst,” he replies, voice shaking. Lance smiles against his skin, dragging his lips down Keith’s chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He slides Keith off his lap and crawls backwards down the bed as he continues down Keith’s torso, kissing the spot just under his ribcage. He slides his hands down over Keith’s hips, hooking his fingers into Keith’s boxers and slowly tugging them down his thighs. Keith groans.

“Lance, Jesus Christ.”

“Huh? You need to speak up, Keith,” Lance taunts, blinking up at Keith with a smirk. He presses his lips to his stomach, just under his bellybutton, and nips at the soft skin there. Keith’s back arches.

“Lance, stop.”

Lance immediately shoots up, blinking at Keith with alertness, and Keith claps a hand over his mouth.

“Whoops! I’m an idiot!” He says, embarrassed. Lance cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Keith replies, “I meant, like, stop making fun of me. Please get back in close proximity with my penis.”

Lance bites at his lip, struggling to hold in a laugh, and Keith giggles too.

“Jesus, Keith, have you ever had sex in your life?” He teases, pinching Keith’s ribcage. Keith chuckles.

“No,” he responds sarcastically, “please be gentle.”

Lance stares at him flatly, lips curled up into a smirk, and Keith bats his lashes in mock innocence. Lance just shrugs and hooks his fingers into Keith’s boxers, pulling them all the way off his legs, and Keith clicks his tongue.

“Okay, this is unfair. This is a power imbalance,” he complains. Lance cocks his head in confusion.

“Uh?”

“I’m butt-ass naked right now and you’re still wearing jeans,” he replies, reaching out and flicking open the button of Lance’s jeans. Lance grabs his wrists. Keith is about to protest when Lance leans over him, pressing his hands to the bed and cutting his words off with a kiss. He bites Keith’s lower lip lightly and slips his tongue between Keith’s lips, lightly trailing it across the roof of his mouth. When he pulls back, Keith’s eyes are closed. He kisses the corner of Keith’s mouth.

“Take it easy, Keith,” he whispers, “relax.”

He slides down the bed to the ground and pulls Keith across the comforter by the ankle. Keith lets out a surprised whoop, sitting up on his elbows and frowning at Lance incredulously.

“Take it easy,” he repeats, hooking Keith’s thighs over his shoulders. He kisses the inside of Keith’s thigh, licking over the sensitive skin there, and Keith collapses back on the bed, throwing his arms up over his head, his chest already heaving.

Lance smirks.

This’ll be fun.

He trails his fingertips lightly over Keith’s dick, hardly ever touching him, and Keith twitches, his body jerking. Lance sinks his teeth into the flesh of Keith’s inner thigh, wrapping his hand around Keith’s cock and stroking over him with slow, deliberate movements. He glances up at Keith out of the corner of his eye.

Keith’s head is tipped back, his messy, dark hair spread across Lance’s bedspread in a disheveled ring. His cheeks are flushed, hands clenched in Lance’s bedspread, and his lips are hanging open, breathing heavily

Lance wets his lips, eyes narrowing mischievously, and licks a thick stripe along the ridge of Keith’s cock from base to head. Keith’s back arches so much that it looks like it has to be painful, and he chokes out a moan. Lance sits up on his knees, taking the head of Keith’s dick in his mouth. And, because he likes to see Keith squirm, he drags his lips down Keith’s shaft with painful slowness, revelling in the twitches and tremors of Keith’s muscles. He takes the base of Keith’s cock in his hand because, unfortunately, he wasn’t blessed by the blowjob Gods and doubts that throwing up on Keith’s dick will help anything.

“ _Lance,_ ” Keith whines, blindly reaching for Lance’s head. He tangles his fingers in Lance’s hair, pulling lightly and scratching his nails across his scalp. Lance pulls back up, pressing a soft kiss to head of Keith’s cock before going down again, taking Keith as far back into his mouth as he can. Keith wraps his leg around the back of Lance’s neck, holding him close, and Lance smirks. He slips his tongue around the head of Keith’s cock, sliding it over the slit quickly, and Keith whines, turning his head down against his shoulder. Lance’s free hand wraps around Keith’s thigh, digging his nails into the flesh and pushing his legs open a little wider to get closer to him

At this point, Keith is whining and panting and, from what Lance can tell by their previous encounters, these are some of his early warning signs. He pulls off and drags his lips down the side of Keith’s shaft.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes against Keith’s skin. Keith mewls, another one of his ‘I’m going to come’ sounds, shoulders tensing and leg tightening around Lance’s neck. Lance takes Keith’s cock back into his mouth and cups his balls with his free hand. Keith’s thighs tense and Lance, deciding to test Keith’s limits, lightly trails his fingers down Keith’s taint.

Keith’s eyes fly open.

“Lance-”

Lance’s eyes cut up to Keith’s face as, lightly, he presses the pads of two fingers to Keith’s entrance.

Keith throws his head back, yanking his hair as he comes hard in Lance’s mouth, and Lance stiffens his neck so the force of Keith’s hips bucking up doesn’t physically force him backwards. He strokes his hand over Keith’s shaft, lips staying wrapped around the tip, until Keith is spent, whining and twitching, with his hand so tight in Lance’s hair that it’s genuinely painful.

He pulls back, sitting on his heels and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He climbs to his feet and back into his bed, pulling Keith back up towards his headboard, and Keith limply lets him tug him into his arms. He blinks lazily, humming as Lance gently cards his fingers through his hair, clearing it away from his face.

“Lance,” he mumbles sleepily, “you are so sexy.”

“I think you’re the sexy one,” Lance quips back, and Keith tilts his face up into the underside of Lance’s jaw.

“Also, you’re hard as hell. I can feel it.”

Lance snorts, working his fingers through a knot in Keith’s hair and rolling his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m gonna worry about it,” Keith replies argumentatively. He slides his fingers blindly across Lance’s stomach and into the waistband of his jeans, pushing his clothing out of the way to wrap his hand around Lance’s shaft. Lance closes his eyes, letting Keith take over. Embarrassingly, he doesn’t last more than a few minutes and, when he’s finished, he wiggles out of his jeans. Keith curls up on his side, tucking his hand under his head and unwittingly smearing cum on his cheek, and Lance snorts at him.

“So, what was today about?” He asks, wrapping his arms around Keith and pulling him into his chest. Keith hums.

“Ever gotten so angry you pop a boner?” Keith replies, and Lance chuckles aloud.

“Oh, on the daily,” he quips, “why were you angry?”

“I’m on my period.”

“Sounds legit.”

“Yup,” Keith replies, rolling over and lying almost entirely on top of Lance, burrowing his head in Lance’s neck. Lance rests his hands on the small of Keith’s back.

“You asleep?” He asks, lightly scratching Keith’s back. Keith hums.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Night, Keith. Love you.”

“Love you.”

 

**_From Bruh:_ ** _hey keeks where are ya??_

**_To Bruh:_ ** _uhhhh library at 7th and West??_

**_To Bruh:_ ** _on the second floor, one of the tables by the window_

**_From Bruh:_ ** _cool cool wanna study together?? i’ll bring u coffee_

**_To Bruh:_ ** _chai tea latte or you can’t come_

**_From Bruh:_ ** _selfish bitch_

**_From Bruh:_ ** _i’ll be five minutes_

True to his word, Shiro arrives in the library in just over five minutes, brandishing his messenger bag and two large coffees. He looks around the library, lost and confused, so Keith coughs to draw his attention. He beelines across the library to Keith’s little table and sets the drinks down, and Keith grabs the one closest to him, reads the label, and takes a sip.

“Hey, Keeks. How are you?” Shiro asks, pulling a notebook and his laptop out of his bag. He flips the laptop open, typing in his password blindly. Keith shrugs.

“Tired. But okay,” he replies, tapping his pen against his page before underlining a sentence. Shiro looks up at him, cocking his head, and snorts. He reaches across the table and pokes Keith’s neck.

“I can see why you’re tired,” he says, flicking Keith’s collarbone, where his shirt’s slipped to expose the massive hickey Lance left. “Who gave you that?”

Keith coughs. “Uhh, well, I’ve been having a bit of a fling.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Shiro deadpans, raising his eyebrow. Keith flushes.

“Like, I’m just… having some casual sex.”

“Wow, really? I never would’ve known,” Shiro replies flatly. Smiling sheepishly, Keith reaches up to readjust his collar.

“It’s not a big deal, Shiro.”

“Of course it’s a big deal! My baby brother is getting banged by some guy I don’t know yet!”

“We haven’t had, like, _sex_ sex yet,” Keith argues, “we’re just? Being casual. It’s not a huge deal.”

“Who is it?” Shiro asks, “is he seventeen, like you? Or is he eighteen? Because, if he’s eighteen, I officially hate him.”

“I’m literally going to be eighteen in like, a month. And I’m licensed to fuck under authority of the state of Washington.”

“You’re an infant.”

“I’m legally allowed to consent,” Keith retorts, “and yes, he is eighteen, and no, you don’t know him, and if you’re going to get mad at me for banging older men, I slept with Matt.”

Shiro hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. Keith smirks smugly, leaning back in his chair and kicking Shiro’s shin under the table.

“Don’t remind me. I don’t need to know about you sleeping with Matt.”

“I’m gonna remember my glorious night with Matt for the rest of my life,” Keith says wistfully, tilting his head back and smiling. “Never in my life will I find a man that so much as holds a candle to the sweet love I made with Matthew Holt. Whatever man I eventually settle on to marry will pale in comparison to Mr. Holt, my only true love-”

“Okay, let’s get things straight,” Shiro interrupts, holding up a finger, “you’re not still sleeping with Matt, are you?”

Keith sighs, pressing a hand to his heart. “Alas, I am not.”

“I literally still can’t believe you slept with my best friend,” Shiro says, crossing his arms over his chest. Keith shrugs.

“I was horny.”

“And Matt was your only option?”

“He was my best option,” Keith replies, picking up his pen and leaning over to rest his chin on his notebook, looking up at Shiro with amusement. Shiro takes a large swig of his coffee and sighs, and Keith coughs.

“Christ,” Keith chuckles, “ease up on the black coffee and go to the dentist.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow and huffs a large breath across the table at Keith, who tucks his nose into his shirt, glaring up at Shiro. They both glare at each other for a while before cracking up softly, and Shiro reaches across the table to ruffle Keith’s hair.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

“I saw you last weekend.”

“Yeah but, like, we used to see each other every day,” Shiro replies, “and now we’re both so busy that I hardly see you anymore.”

“You do realizes you spent a year and a half living here while I was still at home, right?” Keith says, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just weird, Keeks! Now we’re here together and we don’t hang out every night!” Shiro insists. Keith rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, reaching across the table to pat Shiro’s chest. Shiro takes his hand.

“I’ve missed you so much, Keeks.”

“Missed you too, Shi,” Keith admits. They smile at each other for a minute beforeShiro lets go of Keith’s hand and turns to his laptop while Keith goes back to his book. They study in silence, occasionally commiserating about their work. Keith also takes a few minutes to criticize Shiro’s sloppy notes, sending him links to a bunch of different Tumblr studying accounts, and Shiro pulls out his handwritten budget plan to insist that he has no spare money to buy stationery.

When it gets dark, Shiro and Keith walk back to the dorm together, Shiro pointing out the favourite places he’s discovered over the past two years.

“During first year, when Adam came to visit, he and I sat there for hours and talked about nothing,” he says, pointing at a bench in the park. It’s a beautiful spot, overlooking a river, and Keith’s heart clenches.

“Wanna stop?” He offers. Shiro just shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. It’s been a while,” Shiro responds. He smiles out at the park for a minute before turning his attention back to the sidewalk in front of him.

“Do you still miss him?” Keith asks. Shiro sighs.

“Yeah, constantly,” Shiro admits, eyebrows furrowing, “but it’s not every day anymore. It’s getting easier, Keith.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, setting a hand on Shiro’s elbow. Shiro smiles down at him.

“It’s okay, Keith. I’m okay now,” he says, throwing an arm over Keith’s shoulders. Keith leans into him, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as Shiro sniffles. It’s not often that Shiro cries, so Keith gives him as much privacy as he can given their close proximity.

Keith still remembers when the headlines came out, when news of the Washington University engineering first year getting killed in a freak accident first hit Washington State. At first, Shiro was unconcerned, thinking that there was no way the student could’ve been Adam. But then he called, and called, and never got through to him. And that was when he started to panic. He called Adam’s parents, and they gave him the horrifying news.

After Adam died, Shiro was a bit of a disaster. It happened in December of Shiro’s first year of university; they were broken up at the time but still kept in close contact, and Shiro always thought they’d get back together after university. Honestly, Keith thought so too. Shiro had to take the second semester of university off to recuperate and, while he lived at home, he seemed like he was barely there.

That was probably the time in which Keith missed Shiro the most.

He loops his arm around Shiro’s ribcage and they walk in silence for the rest of the way back to the dorm building. Shiro walks Keith back to his room.

“I love you, Keith,” he says, wrapping his arms around Keith and lifting him off the floor.

“Oh my god,” Keith replies, chuckling, “you’re so embarrassing.”

“I’m your big brother and I love you,” Keith insists, swinging Keith back and forth, his legs swinging like a rag doll.

“I love you too, Shi,” he says after a minute, and Shiro sets him back down. He ruffles his hair.

“I’ll see you around, yeah? Text me,” he says. Keith nods and Shiro waves before turning to walk back down the hallway, and Keith lets himself into his room. Then he punches in Lance’s room code.

“Who’s- oh! Hey, Squeaks,” Lance says, turning around on his desk chair. Keith waves, smiling, and falls onto Lance’s bed.

“Ugh.”

“Mood,” Lance quips, shutting off his desk lamp. Keith closes his eyes, listening to Lance’s idle movements as he cleans up his desk and fills his oil diffuser, turning it on. He feels the bed dip as Lance sits next to him.

“I’m dying.”

“You good?” Lance asks, brushing a strand of Keith’s hair from his face. Keith hums.

“I’m good. Tired,” Keith says, “got a classics test tomorrow and I don’t know shit about the classics.”

“Well hey, you’re probably better than me,” Lance replies cheerily. Keith opens his eye a crack, taking in Lance’s satisfied smirk. He sits up and wraps his arms around Lance’s shoulders.

“I love you so much,” he says, “never die.”

Lance coughs. “Uh, what?”

“Don’t ever die. You’re not allowed to,” Keith repeats into Lance’s shoulder, tightening his grip around his neck. Lance chuckles, wrapping his own arms tightly around Keith’s back.

“Okay, Squeaks,” he promises, “I won’t die if you don’t, okay?”

Keith nods. He pulls back, blinking into Lance’s eyes, and smiles as Lance’s eyes roam his face in confusion. He slides his hands from behind Lance’s neck to his jaw and kisses him. Lance inhales sharply, surprised, but still tightens his grip around Keith’s back to pull him in. Keith climbs into his lap and Lance edges back until he’s leaning against the wall.

For a minute, they’re frantic. They’re all hands on skin and teeth on lips and tongues in mouths, sharing each other’s breath and grasping at each other eagerly. They push and pull at each other, dragging nails over skin, and Lance sinks his teeth into Keith’s throat.

And it slows.

Lance grips Keith’s hips loosely, pulling him close. He kisses over the bite mark he’s left on Keith’s neck and trails up, lips pressed loosely against his cheek. Keith wraps his arms tightly around Lance’s neck, leaning his forehead against Lance’s shoulder. He rocks up against him, and they lose themselves to each other.

“Ha,” Keith breathes when they’re done, “I feel fifteen again. I can’t remember last time I came from… this.”

“From some vigorous dry humping?” Lance suggests, awkwardly waddling across the room to his dresser. He tosses Keith a clean pair of boxers. Once he’s changed, he climbs back into bed, wrapping his arms tightly around Keith’s waist.

Keith sighs.

“Is this, like, a thing?” He asks, eyes roaming over the art on Lance’s wall. Lance sits up, looking down over him.

“What?”

“Like, this?” Keith repeats, “you know, like, us, doing this. Is it a thing?”

“A thing? Like a relationship thing?” Lance asks, setting a hand on Keith’s shoulder to roll him onto his back. He looks down into his eyes and Keith shrugs.

“I don’t know. Yeah? No?”

“It doesn’t have to be a thing,” Lance says, worrying his lip through his teeth. “We can just do… this… and it doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“If you want,” Lance replies, “or we can cut this off, or we can not label it…”

“I don’t want to cut this off. I like sex too much to cut this off,” Keith jokes, and Lance snorts in response, rolling his eyes.

“Hoe.”

“Yup. Anyway, I’m fine with friends with benefits if you are,” he suggests, eyes roaming over Lance’s face worriedly. Lance nods and lies back down, laying his arm over Keith’s chest.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry so much, Keith. You’ll go grey.”

Keith chuckles and rolls over, pulling at Lance’s arm to keep him close, and Lance kisses Keith’s neck as he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'alls fuckin comment i crave that sweet sweet validation thanks love u all happy holidays hope ur all enjoying ur breaks and living ur best lives

**Author's Note:**

> if you guys were into this, please comment!!! i love receiving attention!!!!! you can also hit me up on tumblr @ http://gaylax-ies.tumblr.com if you wanna chat!!! love y'all thanks for reading!!!!


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